Gold and Fire
by Cassandrala
Summary: The unseen moments of An Unexpected Journey and The Desolation of Smaug- as well as a few predictions of The Battle of Five Armies. This is a sequel to another story (Gems and Poison), but can stand alone. Fili/OC and Kili/Tauriel and a little bit of Thorin/OC (leading up to their own story: Jewels and Daggers)
1. Ch 1 -- Goodbye

**Gold and Fire - Chapter 1**

_-October-_

"Is Nur coming?" Kili asked his brother.

"Of course she is," Fili muttered, tightening a strap on his pony's saddle. But he honestly began to wonder that himself. He wouldn't blame his wife if she didn't want to say goodbye to them.

Fili, Kili, and a few of their Iron Hills companions had prepared for their journey to the Blue Mountains and were nearly ready to depart…

"Where are you?" Fili whispered nervously under his breath, but his heart quickened when he saw movement from the corner of his eye—a small, feminine figure leaving the gates of the Iron Hills' walls.

Nur came to stand before the dwarves and ponies, pulling Kili into a tight embrace and smiling. But Fili knew that smile. It was a new habit of hers, to feign a grin despite the war on her mind. He knew she was still unwell, but she managed a convincing mask for any that didn't know her.

Nur's hands left his brother and her eyes pierced her husband. "The forces of evil in middle-earth have never known the power and might of Fili and Kili, Durin's descendants, and will be overturned in only a few months."

Laughter erupted from Kili's mouth while he mounted his pony, but Fili stood before his beloved with a tentative smile. He pressed his forehead against hers and touched the exposed skin on her shoulders, breathing in her scent and memorizing her in this moment.

"Master Fili," one of the dwarves spoke, "We need to make use of the sun's light…"

It was as gentle an indication that they needed to leave as could have been managed, but Fili saw that it still sent shivers down his wife's body. His muscles tensed and his heart pounded, hating to see her on the brink of panic, and pulled her close, kissing her with soft lips and comforting her with his touch.

"I promise you I'll come back for you," Fili said, wishing he could infuse her with his confidence. "And we will celebrate our _nuisin_ soon."

If he were to convince her that he would be returning for her, Fili must not stand there and hold her as if there was a chance he might never hold her again—he must pull away from her now!

He moved to mount his pony, but he was struck by a thought.

Is this what his father had felt when he'd been forced to leave Dis behind? Did that moment haunt his mother more than she let on—those moments Dis had been unaware would be her last with her beloved?

He couldn't bear it—convincing or not, if these _were_ their last moments together, he did not want Nur to remember him as distant or uncaring.

Nur was not expecting him to come back to her, and so her expression of surprise—and relief—made him feel that it was not wrong to want to hold her again.

"Tell me you'll be well." He pleaded—he could traverse all of middle-earth, weary and starving, if he knew that she was safe.

"I'll be well." She repeated.

"Tell me you'll get better." He feared the memories of his mother, depression taking its toll on her when his father had not come home. Dis was strong and had overcome that sadness, but Fili needed to hear that Nur would endure while he was away, haunted by the idea that she would suffer what his mother had suffered.

"I won't wither while you're gone, I'll be strong. I promise."

He kissed her fiercely and when Fili pulled away this time, it was to keep himself from staying.

* * *

King Dain held his arms out, allowing his servant to help him out of the uncomfortable, courtly clothes he'd donned for the day's proceedings. He'd meant to see the Erebor-journeying lads off, but the issues with the outpost traders still had his hands tied.

However, he was secretly relieved not to watch Thorin's heir leave, as he imagined his daughter didn't want him to be there while she broke the news to Fili that she wasn't interested in him anymore.

Dain had been surprised, the evening before when she had finally consented to taking up a military position in his army. What she asked for in return was easy enough—sending re-enforcements to Erebor when they called on the Iron Hills—and it was worth that small headache to have the security of yet another family member in the ranks.

It seemed like ages ago when one of his most trusted advisors had turned against him and taken all but a third of the army with them, waging war against his own halls from within. After his wife's death in the onslaught, he promised himself he would not let it happen again.

Finally shirking off the outer garments and taking on the soft comfort of a cotton tunic, the King lowered himself to sit on his bed and remove his boots slowly.

What he couldn't understand is why Nur had agreed in exchange for a favor for Thorin—Dain never held his vote against Thorin for anything personal (indeed, the King named his own son after the honorable descendent of Durin) but the facts could not be denied: Thorin's previous ventures had ended in disaster and time made no difference while there was still a dragon guarding those halls.

This, he had told her, was why he wouldn't be helping Thorin on this venture, but she'd swayed him with her offer. His daughter was willing to go above and beyond what he had expected of her and Dain would announce the loaning of his forces at the council in Ered Luin.

* * *

"The Princess of the Iron Hills looks very lovely today," said a low voice which pierced through Nur's thoughts.

Nur was sitting on the windowsill of her study, staring at the vast wilderness below and only slightly turned her head to acknowledge the compliment. "Thank you, sir Dul."

"Never you mind the 'sir'." Dul grumbled. He walked slowly to lower himself into her reading chair by the fireplace, across from where she sat.

She turned her head fully now, glancing at him and losing herself in memory of the last dwarf who had occupied that chair: Her beloved, Prince Fili, who was five days gone—and already the loss of his presence had stirred quite an upset in the Iron Hills.

"What's on your mind, my Lady?" He murmured with his chin against his fist, his elbow on the arm of the chair.

Nur grinned with half her mouth. "You forbid me to call you sir, but you insist on calling me 'lady'?"

"It is owed to you, Princess Nur. And I consider myself to be _your_ servant rather than a subject of the Iron Hills."

"Not my servant," Nur said, standing down from the window and moving a little closer to the massive dwarf. She took hold of the hand that wasn't supporting his chin. "_I_ would consider us to be friends."

"Then don't change the subject, dear friend," he said, squeezing her hand, "and tell me what is upsetting you."

She sighed. "It's nothing. I miss Fili, but that's to be expected."

"Aye," the muscled Dul nodded. "My cousin Dwalin is with them, now. I have not seen him for a very long time…" He frowned, locking his gaze on Nur's sad eyes, "But that's _not_ what you're thinking about, lass."

Nur pursed her lips in irritation and gently pulled her hand away from Dul, crossing her arms and facing the window again. "You'll find out soon enough anyway… I'm going to take the Akkik."

Dul rose to his feet in a single movement, fists clenching and boots stomping to bring him closer to Nur.

"Have you lost your mind?" He leaned his head to be level with her.

"It's likely." She answered with distant eyes.

"Taking that warrior's journey is not a decision to be made in haste! You don't know what those soldiers are subjected to—"

"I begin in two days."

Dul rubbed a hand over his bald head. "Then there's no backing out." He grasped her shoulder. "You know that, don't you? That once you start, you have to follow through to the end."

"Yes, I know."

"You won't be allowed to see your friends or family until it is finished."

"Dul—"

"They'll test you to find your limits and then break you past them."

"I know, but—"

"They work you mercilessly in training, going above and beyond what others would call sensible."

"Dul! I know all of this!"

"Then why, Nur?" Dul was angry, but he didn't raise his voice. "What would possess you—"

"Because my father wasn't going to help them! He leaves for the council in the Blue Mountains in just days and he was ready to say no—I did the only thing I could think of." She almost spoke in a whisper, thinking on her conversation with her father as though she were a witness and not a participant. "King Dain has always dreamed of his children taking up positions in his army—who better to trust than your own blood?—and I have never been interested."

"With good reason." Dul arched an eyebrow.

Nur frowned at him, tensing when his hand didn't leave her shoulder. "I told him I would finally do it—I would train with his cadets, if only he would offer up the service of his military when Thorin asked for it. He was surprised…" Her commitment to her father's army implied that she would be sticking around in the Iron Hills indefinitely, though only she and a few others were truly aware that once Erebor had been reclaimed, her residence and occupation would change. "And wasn't sure if I would back out or not… I had to do something—I had to make sure he went to the council with an affirmative vote."

"But, Nur, the Akkik? Didn't he think that was extreme?"

"Yes, but it also convinced him that I was serious."

Nur's willpower crumbled a little when Dul's thick fingers squeezed her shoulder. She raised a hand to rest on top of his and whispered, "I'm scared, Dul. But I have to do this. If this is the price I have to pay to ensure their success on their quest for Erebor, then it is worth it to me."

Dul's jaw clenched for a moment in thought before he spoke, "I've not known the Prince for as long as you have," he said slowly, "but I'm sure he wouldn't count this as an acceptable cost."

"Fili took risks for me when he married me in secret," Nur admitted, happy to declare it to _someone_ and knowing that Dul would not betray them. "I must take a few for him."

Dul took a step back, pondering the information he'd been given and crossing his arms. He was touched that she trusted him enough to confess such a thing, and yet… "That makes a difference, but it doesn't wholly justify it. Still... if you are determined to do this, you'll not be doing it _alone_."

Nur grimaced, turning her head to face Dul, whose serious face had an insolent sneer.

"If the future Queen of Erebor can make foolish decisions, then what's to stop me?"

Nur knew it was considered weak to do what she did next, but she also knew that in the months to come she would not be permitted the same chance, and so she strode to Dul and quickly embraced him, locking her small arms around his midsection and, being much shorter than him, rested her head against his broad chest. Dul's bulky arms enfolded her and he patted her hair, sighing and reaching into a small satchel at his side.

"I'm assuming, before they restrict your belongings, that you'll be wanting these in your last days of freedom." He tucked a collection of folded papers wrapped in string under her elbow.

Curious, the princess of the Iron hills clasped the papers and took a small step back from Dul, eyeing the mysterious collection. "What is this?"

"Letters from your husband."

Nur's face beamed and she hugged Dul again before fumbling with the string and unfolding one of the papers.

But her face contorted to a frown when it revealed itself to be as wide and tall as her hand with a location scribbled into it.

Dul laughed at her reaction and, stepping to the door to leave, said, "It's the locations of your letters which he's hidden throughout the Iron Hills."

Nur looked a little panicked, but Dul shrugged, "He didn't know you'd be pressed for time—he wanted to distract you with something to keep you busy. I'll be in the Commander's office, seeing what I can do about joining the Akkik."

Barely hearing him, Nur slid herself into the reading chair and unfolded all of the papers one after another. They bore a variety of different locations (all private so as to keep his notes to her away from a stranger chancing upon them), but they were far apart from each other.

"Oh, Fili…" She sighed. It irked her that he would put time and effort into something so sweet, only to have her muddle it. "I guess I'm going on a scavenger hunt…"

* * *

*_nuisin_- there are three portions of a dwarvish initiation into marraige: the first being the engagement, the second is the actual ceremony, and the third is the part where the husband brings his new wife into their home (and this is the nuisin). Fili considers that his bringing Nur to Erebor will be the completion of their union.

*_comments on forced marriage in dwarvish culture: _I know it goes against dwarvish traditions to force their daughters into marriage, but I am also featuring a bit in this story where the dwarves of middle earth are going through a bit of a culture crisis and one of Thorin's reasons for taking back Erebor is to re-institute the older dwarvish customs (while King Dain is taking on more and more man-like customs to try and preserve their population)_  
_

**This is sort of AU, but also sort of conforming to the Hobbit movies (as you'll see in later chapters)**

**Thank you for patiently waiting while I finished revising the previous story Gems and Poison. Here's hoping you enjoy Gold and Fire. I'll be posting one new chapter every Friday (this Friday will feature Chapter 2). Special thanks to Summer Alden and Blue River Steel who have been helping me with revisions and edits! If you haven't read their stories yet, I strongly encourage you to (they are much better than mine!)**

**As always, thanks for the read- leave me feedback, please! It would make me so happy!**


	2. Ch 2 -- Choosing your battles

**Gold and Fire – Chapter 2**

_-October-_

Nur's mad dash through the Iron Hills yielded five letters, leaving her with ten more to find before her last two days before the Akkik were spent. The places where her husband hid the letters were full of memory—"the place where Kili tricked us into meeting each other", "the place where we first kissed", "the library, and the book you threw at me"… Fili had spent so much time and care putting these letters and their hiding places together, his efforts on her behalf overwhelmed her.

Nur frowned, though, as she began to realize that _her_ efforts on _his_ behalf would not allow her to find all of his concealed correspondence. And since she was reviewing so many memories in her head, it was inevitable that her mind would begin to replay the incident which had happened only two days after Fili had left…

_Nur was heaving on the floor, hand out in a halting motion towards her weapons instructor. She knew better than to say she wanted to be done—knew that the path she had committed to would allow him to punish her for saying such a thing—but she allowed herself a moment of weakness to use her hand to communicate the same idea._

_Two and a half hours in and she was already faltering._

"_The enemy will not permit you to rest." Her instructor, Gamul, chided._

_Nur breathed heavily, allowing herself to glance at him from her position on the floor, muscles trembling with exertion. She could see his disgust._

"_Your father told me you were willing to devote yourself to this. So far, all I see is a pampered princess," Gamul growled, stepping toward her threateningly. "who is pacing herself and conserving her energy."_

_Struggling to a knee and standing on shaky feet, Nur could feel strange popping sensations in her legs and arms, oxygen and blood flowing faster than they ever had before. "This is my third day, Gamul. Even you can't expect me to push past my boundaries yet."_

_Though all of his movements were very controlled, master that he was in his field, he let loose a war cry and charged at her, testing her awareness._

_She was frightened by the movement, unarmed as she was, and turned frantically to reach for her war hammer on the floor. It was by luck that she grasped it in time, using it to block the blow that might have struck her face._

_But she knew Gamul would not strike her, and he was aware of the thought as she had it. To counter the thought, though, he pulled the hammer away and struck her in the knee, proving that he was not above causing her pain to teach her a lesson._

_Nur's hands released her hammer and flew to her knee, which throbbed with the twisted nerves. He hadn't struck her hard enough to break anything, but the force was still enough to cause her head to ache and her hands to tremble._

_Gamul leaned forward, inches from her face until her panicked eyes met his._

"_How many hours did you sit under that tree __**allowing**__ Gren to cut you?"_

_Nur's eyes went wide. "How did you…?"_

_Gamul growled, not removing his face, but kneeling so that his body was closer to hers. "__**Everyone **__knows. Why do you think they've been looking at you the way they do?"_

_Everyone…? Her physician had promised her he wouldn't share her twisted experience at Gren's hand, and she had trusted him enough to tell him all of it…_

_Gamul was not an amateur trainer—he'd been preparing soldiers for almost sixty years—and he knew how the mind worked. He also knew how to use emotions as a tool with his trainees. There was a reason dwarves around middle-earth aspired to learn combat in the Iron Hills._

"_You don't know who to trust, now, do you?" He pushed her thoughts in a specific direction. "You thought your secrets were safe."_

_Nur's mouth dropped open as she let this information sink in. She wanted to resist him, wanted to shut him out, but it made sense. She'd had a hard time telling anyone about the torture Gren had inflicted on her, but Nur had relented soon enough… and those to whom she had given her account betrayed the trust she had struggled to scrounge._

"_They lie to you because they think you are weak. Something to be taken care of. I have no patience to train anyone willing to let others coddle them."_

_Nur's eyes snapped up to meet his. "I am not weak."_

_He rose from his knees, standing above her and resting his Warhammer on his shoulder. "You haven't even passed initiation."_

"_Initiation? I didn't know there was one." She mumbled pathetically._

_Gamul's eyebrows raised. "If I don't think you have what it takes to pass my courses, why should I waste my time on you? Why do you think everyone flocks to the Iron Hills to train, lass? Because we only take the best."_

"_But my father…" her mind raced, "…I __**have**__ to do this! It was part of our agreement—"_

"_That's your problem, not mine." He scowled at her, turning away as if to leave. "You shouldn't have made promises you couldn't keep. If you don't pass my initiation training, you will never even make cadet."_

_She wanted to scramble across the floor, wanted to cling to his legs and beg… but she knew that this was only further proof of her feebleness._

_A part of her heart hardened. There was no one to protect her. No one to take care of her here. She would have to take care of herself. Nur didn't exactly know how to do this, but she thought back on the previous words Gamul had offered her: "__**They lie to you because they think you are weak. Something to be taken care of. I have no patience to train anyone willing to let others coddle them**__."_

_Those words congealed inside of Nur, building up in anger. She stood and held her hammer in a defensive pose. "Gamul."_

_The muscled dwarf turned to face her, sneering at her pose._

"_I've never done anything like this before." She admitted, knowing that it showed her flaw, but realizing it didn't matter If he was set on dismissing her anyway. "I don't know how to protect myself..."_

_From the way she said it, he knew she wasn't referring to arms training. Some people naturally knew the answer he was about to give her, while others needed to be told._

"_Anger."_

_She blinked at him._

"_Anger is caused by injustice. It wasn't fair, what happened, was it?" Gamul said, speaking softer than she knew he could. "It wasn't right. Someone should have been there to keep it from happening, shouldn't they?"_

_She was afraid to nod, but she peered at his boots and acknowledged that these were her feelings already._

"_Either someone should have been there or you should have been strong enough to resist him." Gamul said, his voice lowering. He gripped his Warhammer and strode closer to her. "We either sink to dismay and let fear overpower us, or we recognize the injustice and become angry that something isn't being done about it—then we turn that anger into power." He flexed a fist to emphasize the word. "And that power allows us to do what is necessary."_

_Nur grimaced, taking this in. She had a great capacity to love people, sympathizing with them and not wanting them to be hurt. It was difficult for her to think about hurting someone and this had always been the hitch in her weapons training. But what Gamul said… Nur had once protected innocent traders in an attack, slaying at least three enemy dwarves. It hadn't felt the way she thought it would—she was stopping them from hurting people. Maybe that's how simple it was._

_Gamul saw that her eyes were still questioning and decided to help the process along. "Your father thinks you can't do this."_

_Nur scowled, raising her head to meet Gamul's gaze._

"_He only made a pact with you to send re-enforcements to the Lonely Mountain if you could achieve even a Captain status because he knew it would be impossible." Gamul continued._

_Nur's breathing increased, her eyes scanning the floor, searching for Mahal knew what._

"_Your physique is not a problem. You have the motivation. You even have memories—" he referred to Gren's torture. "—to fuel an unstoppable force. The only thing wanting now is your will."_

_Gamul let his hammer fall to his side, stepping away from Nur and toward the weapons rack on the wall. "Don't ask for my help unless you really want results."_

"_Gamul, help me. I have to do this for my—" she almost said husband, but she altered it to, "father."_

_Setting his hammer into its groove Gamul paced to the end of the rack, toward the smaller weapons. Nur's heartbeat quickened when his fingers grazed a curved blade much like the one Gren had possessed._

_A flood of memories worked their way to Nur's eyes: the dark forest, the trees, Gren's laughter, the slices in her arm and the frantic drive to see where he was though he was shrouded in shadow and seemed to come from everywhere._

"_Fear," Gamul said, closing his palm over the handle of the blade. "Turn it into anger."_

_The princess began to hyperventilate, her fingers seizing up, and her arms going numb._

_Gamul lunged at her with the curved blade and she only had enough sense to sidestep him at the last moment, though his elbow grazed her shoulder. It might as well have been the blade, though, because her scars responded to the touch with a fiery tingle._

"_It wasn't right!" Gamul shouted at her, slicing at her again, while she ducked away from him. "It shouldn't have happened, but it did!" This time a knick caught her knuckle and she held her hammer up in defense of her face. "And now everyone thinks you're some infant lass who needs constant vigil and care!" She stopped a blow with the middle of her warhammer's handle. "They don't think you can get up in the morning without help, let alone have a placement in the King's army!"_

_Now Nur's fury rose, understanding the instruction this master was giving her. She pushed aside the blade from his hand with her hammer and raised it above her head with the strength of a killing blow. But Gamul the weapon master anticipated this and dropped to the ground, kicking her feet out from under her._

_She tried to rise, but he was faster and crawled on top of her, not caring about the awkward positioning but settling his seating on her stomach and lowering his face so that his single braid was touching her cheek._

"_Forget placement in the King's army, that's not what you want. You just want to get back to your __**lover**__." He snarled, pinning her arms above her head. "How can you help him if you can't even help yourself?"_

_Nur screamed in his face, her vision turning crimson, and she shoved him off with a strength she didn't know she had in her. Kicking him in the gut and going after her hammer again, she struck out at him, waving the heavy instrument at his abdomen. He jumped back, but felt the sweep of air only an inch away._

"_What else have they told you?" She shouted, swinging the hammer again, this time almost smashing his foot. "That I weep in the night? That I lose sight in my eyes when I remember Gren?" Holding the heavier part of the hammer, she rammed the handle at Gamul's head, but he smacked it away._

_He smiled at her, seeing that she had switched things up with her weapon, but waiting for her to deliver a blow worthy of his time._

"_I know everything about you Nur," he said, matter-of-factly, not as a taunt. He was done taunting her, letting her anger take its course and measuring the depths of it to see if it was enough to shape her into a fighter. The military rankings, of course, had nothing to do with him, but her survival instinct needed to be tapped into, and so far he judged that she possessed enough willpower._

_He was astounded when one of her jabs actually caused him to stagger back, clasping a hand over his eye and assessing that her hammer and struck the side of his face hard enough to cause damage. He did not ask her to stop, but she stood down, gasping for air and seething with an intensity that made him hopeful she could manage through his lessons._

"_That…" he smiled, though the right side of his face was covered in blood. "… was good."_

_She was incredulous. "Infirmary?" she huffed between breaths._

"_Not yet." He brushed her off. "Stow your weapon and come back." He dropped to the mat below him and with his legs pointed outward, one hand off to the side and holding his weight, the other hand holding his injured temple. Nur did as she was told and then returned to sit in front of him, lip quivering at the sight of his blood._

"_It's a head wound, all head wounds bleed like this," he muttered, leaning forward in a cross-legged position. "I can help you. But you're not going to like it."_

"_I didn't like being tortured then, I don't have to like training now." Nur grumbled._

_"Good. You understand." He grinned. _"_There is an advanced program we seldom offer to students, but it would force the King into honoring his promise to you."_

"_I'll do whatever it takes—"_

_Gamul shook his hand at her, grimacing at the throbbing that was growing in his head. "You need to know what you're getting into first. You commit to it, there's no turning back. That's where the King wouldn't be able to ignore his pact. Do you know of Akkik?"_

_Nur frowned. "Yes…"_

"_Then you'll know that what I'm asking you to do isn't just hard, it's intensive. You eat and sleep with your weapon, you forgo seeing relatives until the conclusion, you are under the observation of your superiors day and night, and you will only do what we tell you to do. No books unless we tell you to read them, no food unless we tell you to eat it—and then if we tell you not to eat for days, you must obey." He eyed her seriously. "This is not something I would offer lightly."_

_Nur's hand went up to her earlobe, pulling at it a little, a question in her eye. "The Rings?"_

"_Yes," he nodded. "Even that."_

_Nur looked at the ground, thinking furiously._

_The King had always wanted his children to be among the rankings in his army, a comfort of not having to question their loyalty, and Nur had been the most resistant to this… until now. Now he expected her to make up for lost time, to lead a battalion herself if he would be willing to send it once Thorin had reclaimed the Mountain.__** If **__he reclaimed it…_

_And now Gamul was offering her a way to make absolutely sure that the King kept to his promise. She would undergo the Akkik, the elite training of a warrior in leadership…_

_**Oh, Fili,**__ she thought. __**I would do anything to help you, love. I would even do this…**_

"_Yes." She said firmly after a moment of silence. "Yes, I'll do it."_

"_Then you'll sign your name on the charter when we get back from the infirmary." He groaned, bothered by a squishing sound in his head behind his ear._

* * *

Dul was certain he was taking a terrible risk, but he also knew that he owed it to his true Lord, King Thorin, to give him some idea of what was happening in the halls of the Iron Hills. Dul penned his letter in haste, relaying to his leader the entry of Nur and himself into The Akkik training and the reason for taking such a path. He also made mention that Nur had confessed her marriage to Fili… he wondered for a moment if the great leader had been told, but he mused that he could take the chance of mistakenly informing Thorin rather than King Dain.

The King of the Iron Hills was making ready to leave for the council in Ered Luin and Dul rushed the waxing of his letter, purposing to send it along with Dain's couriers, where Thorin would receive it at the gathering of all seven kingdoms.

Dul sped from his quarters, rushing through the halls and sprinting past the crowd of dwarves waiting to see their King off. Excitement flowed heavy among them; this was a meeting of historical significance, as the seven kingdoms did not meet often. Dul grumbled at the circumstances which kept him from making speed to Vil, his correspondent to the King.

The great body of Dul only just emerged from the crowd to stand at Vil's pony as the representative swung his leg over his saddle.

"Respected representative Vil," Dul called out, doing his best to calm his breathing. "Would you grant me kindness and accept the honor of passing on this letter to the exiled King of Erebor's halls, Thorin Oakenshield?"

Dul did not normally speak in this way, but he found that any traction to be had with the young lad only came from flattery and formality. The young dwarf did not enjoy being an emissary so much as he enjoyed the respect his status won.

"Sir Dul," the lad sneered at the 'sir', "of what import has this correspondence?"

"Much," Dul answered, his mind working quickly, "and it would do no hurt to the emissary's integrity when in the gifting of this missive, Vil of the Iron Hills must address our prestigious Thorin Oakenshield personally."

"Indeed, it would not!" Vil's eyes widened. A chance to speak to Thorin in front of members of the seven kingdoms… "I will relay your missive. I am not expected to bring a reply, am I?" Vil scowled.

"No," Dul bowed low. "Only the tremendous service of speaking to the great King."

Vil tucked the letter into his inner pocket. "Good health to your family." And then turned his pony and joined the departing party.

If Vil had thought that sentiment through, he would have realized he offered insult—Dul's family was dead: parents, brother, wife— but Dul paid no mind to it and repeated the words cordially despite the growing distance between him and the dwarves who followed their King out of the gates.

* * *

Kili glanced sideways at his brother, watching the older dwarf cough and wheeze.

They sat against tree trunks, wrapped in thick blankets beside a small fire which did almost nothing to keep them warm. They were only a day from the Blue Mountains and already a few of them had colds. _That's what we get for travelling in the snow_, Kili smirked.

"You look terrible." Kili said as he heard another sniffle. "Are you even awake?" He noted that Fili's head rested against the bark of the tree with his mouth open, his nose clogged beyond use.

"Yes," came the gargled and groggy reply. "What do you want?"

Kili rose from his place and moved to join the other dwarf. He snickered at the low whimper Fili made when he opened the blanket enough to let him into it, sitting close enough to share his body heat with Fili's chilled form. Adding his own blanket to their bodies, Kili sat beside his brother, rubbing the older dwarf's arms and praying to Mahal that the night would not drop to an absolutely frigid temperature.

"Mum is going to be thrilled to see you in this state." Kili murmured, taking one of Fili's ratted braids and reworking it.

Fili attempted a laugh, but started coughing and sniffling again, ducking his head to his knees, which were bent as close as he could manage. "Mum's soup… clear it up quick."

"Mum's soup?" Kili's eyebrows raised. "With the peppermint? I always hated it."

"Always worked, though."

Kili nodded, brushing through the second braid and almost dropping the clasp in the snow. Fili's eyes were shut and his shoulders were limp, drifting in an out of sleep now that he had Kili's warmth and second blanket. With Kili's delicate fingers in his hair, he was as comfortable as he could get, easing over the edge of consciousness.

The archer was feeling drowsy himself, finishing his brother's braid and resting his head on Fili's shoulder. But he startled himself back into reality when a question came into his head.

"Are you going to tell Mum about Nur?" Kili wasn't sure where the thought came from, but was curious all the same.

Fili jarred awake, but was no longer shivering from cold. "She… already knows."

"That's not what I mean, muggy brain. Are you going to tell her that you're married?"

Fili shook his head and sniffed. "No need… why?"

"It might be a necessary bit of information if Nur comes to Erebor with our mother's grandchildren."

Fili pulled his head up and frowned at the snow. "Grand—? Is Nur—? Did she say something to you?"

Kili's face filled with shock. "No, no, no! She isn't—I just meant—"

Fili groaned and returned his head to his knees. "That is no way to take care of your brother while he's sick…"

Kili sighed, casting his brother a lopsided grin and shaking his head. "I'm sorry, I was just wondering how long this secret is going to burn a hole in my pocket."

"Just… just keep it to yourself for a while…" Fili sniffled, rubbing his nose. "I think on that a little later…"

From beneath their shroud of coverings, Kili had felt his brother's heartbeat quicken with the mention of grandchildren, but now it slowed and he understood how exhausted Fili was, granting him the gift of silence for an undisturbed sleep.

* * *

**Happy Friday, reader! New chapters every Friday, keep your eyes peeled for Hobbit movie content-which is coming soon! Please leave me a review or just a message, I love to hear your thoughts on what you've read! Big thanks to my beta readers Summer Alden and BlueRiverSteel**


	3. Ch 3 -- Lost and Found

**Gold and Fire – Chapter 3**

_-April-_

Having passed a cold winter in the Blue Mountains, Thorin left them; fresh from the council of the seven kingdoms. Their meeting had been long and wearying, his quest for Erebor being just _one_ of the many matters they discussed. Although, if he had to say it rightly, 'discussed' was perhaps better supplemented with 'disputed'.

Thorin was accustomed to traveling alone, but his current passage through the green of the Shire made him uneasy.

"And doesn't it make all the sense in the world that one of the safest realms of middle earth should give me cause for distress?" He mused ironically to his pony. It was not concern for his safety which made the exiled King of Erebor dread the Shire, but the uncharted paths and the myriad of homes built under root and grass.

He could relate to the hobbits' desire to be beneath the soil, being a dwarf and most comfortable with the world's surface located _above_ his dwellings, but his frustration with navigating the halflings' disjointed paths caused him to resent the creatures.

Sighing heavily, he dismounted and strode to the nearest rounded door and gently knocked. He meant to restrain the force of his fist, but the strike of his knuckle against the door yielded loud booms and a creak.

A small head popped out from the door, revealing the tiny face of a hobbit youngling.

"Are you a troll?" The boy squeaked with a high voice.

A short laugh and a wide smile came from Thorin, but his amused expression was cut short by the appearance of the child's much taller father.

"What do you want?" The Hobbit scowled.

Thorin bowed low. "Kind sir, I've lost my way. I'm looking for the residence of Master Baggins—"

"Hobbiton is south." The Hobbit growled, pulling his son back and slamming the door shut.

"I thought I was _in_ Hobbiton." Thorin whispered to the closed door.

Mounting his pony again, he followed a trail south, praying to Mahal that he was close to his destination and watching the sun descend in a pink and orange haze.

* * *

Approaching the door of the Hobbit's house, Fili reached out to rap his fist against the newly painted wood.

The answering face looked surprised, peeking through the narrow opening at the newcomers in frustration.

"Fili." The dwarf prince introduced himself.

"Kili." His brother said.

"At your service." They spoke together, bowing in sync with a swift movement that whipped Fili's braids about his face.

Kili smiled wide. "You must be Mr. Baggins!"

"No, you can't come in! You've got the wrong house." The hobbit moaned, attempting to shut the door.

"What? Has it been cancelled?" Kili asked incredulously, sticking his foot out to stop the door from closing entirely. His stomach grumbled in agreement with his disappointment.

"No one told us." Fili protested. Indeed, if his presence was not required here, he could think of a certain set of hills he'd like to return to… a certain lass he'd like to return to…

Bilbo looked confused and narrowed his eyes. "Canceled? No, nothing's been canceled."

"That's a relief." Kili smiled, though Fili looked a little less thrilled.

Fili eyed Bilbo a little harshly before walking in, following his brother, and Bilbo drew back, a little intimidated by the look.

"Careful with these." Fili said, handing Bilbo his weapons. "Just had them sharpened."

"It's nice, this place," Kili grinned, looking around at the wood-paneled archways and comfortable chairs. "Did you do it yourself?"

"Well, uh, no, uh, it's been in the family for years." Bilbo murmured, still accepting Fili's weapons- which the dwarf was adding on unnecessarily now- while Kili wiped his boots on a wooden chest. "That's my mother's glory box! Can you please not do that?"

"Fili, Kili, come give us a hand." Came a voice from a room further into the Hobbit's homey dwelling.

Dwalin emerged and pulled an arm around Kili's shoulder, ushering the young dwarf with him while Kili looked up at the familiar face warmly. "Mr. Dwalin!"

When Fili finished piling on his assortment of weapons, he made a satisfied grunt and chuckled at the small Hobbit, laden with iron and leather and steel.

The dinner party that followed was raucous and dwarf-like, everyone taking their fill of ale and giving in to the joy of reuniting with friends. Some had not seen each other in years, while others had never strayed far from their companions—but all shared in the ecstasy of feasting and fellowship.

Maybe it was the ale, but Fili felt a weight leave his shoulders in the company of so many friends and mentors. Though he was still young, his life had already gathered hardness and sorrow. But tonight he felt his youth again, reveling in the excitement that they were finally setting out for their lost kingdom!

And perhaps it was this lightening of his burdens that prompted what he did next—something he had not done with Kili since he was a younger dwarfling—something his mother had expressly forbidden—

—Something Fili did when he overheard Ori asking Bilbo what to do with his plate.

With shuffling feet and a gleam in his eye, Fili grabbed the dish from Ori's hands. "Here you go, Ori, give it to me!"

Kili must have sensed his brother's mischief because he appeared in a doorway behind them and grabbed the plate in mid-air when Fili sent it flying in his brother's direction.

The ensuing tossing of plates brought on a chant and then a song which complimented their game of throwing silverware and dishes.

"_Blunt the knives and bend the forks!  
Smash the bottles and burn the corks!  
Chip the glasses and crack the plates!  
That's what Bilbo Baggins hates!"_

Fili could not help but laugh at the frantic hobbit, so concerned over his cutlery being tossed to and fro! And the prince was entertained that the company had adapted the original lyrics of "mother dearest" to "Bilbo Baggins", as the syllables conformed perfectly.

"_Cut the cloth and trail the fat!  
Leave the bones on the bedroom mat!  
Pour the milk on the pantry floor!  
Splash the wine on every door!"_

Bofur was heard piping on his flute and their physician, Oin, grabbed a teapot and mimed blowing air through it as though it were an instrument.

"_Dump the crocks in a boiling bowl;  
Pound them up with a thumping pole;  
And when you've finished, if they are whole,  
Send them down the hall to roll_!"

With only few dishes remaining to be collected, Fili drew his wooden flagon to his lips before belting out the last verse.

"_That's what Bilbo Baggins hates_!"

The roaring merriment of the dwarves echoed through the halls as Bilbo flew through the archway to his dining room and found the dishes, bowls, cups, and utensils piled high—safe and sound! But even amidst their laughter, they heard the ominous knock at the door and fell silent.

"He is here." Gandalf announced.

* * *

Despite his surety in Gandalf's mark, Thorin entertained the thought that he may have come to the wrong door—for the third time! The first door he had stopped at, he'd had an unhelpful murmur of a single direction, south, and a door slammed in his face. The second door he knocked upon he had supposed was the burglar's house, but still the same reaction: Hobbiton. South.

But his trepidation was answered with a reassuring smile as the door opened to reveal the grey wizard.

"Gandalf," Thorin breathed in relief. "I thought you said this place would be easy to find."

Stepping in, he was greeted by the huddle of his dwarven companions, all of whom were so taken in by their king's presence that they grinned from ear to ear.

"I lost my way, twice!" Thorin said in good humor. "I'd have not found it at all if it had not been for that mark on the door." He added with a small chuckle, removing his cloak.

"Mark?" Bilbo squirmed. "There's no mark on that door, it was painted a week ago!"

But Thorin paid no attention to the hobbit, as he gathered his cloak to his arm, glancing at the faces about him. His chest brimmed with his pride in seeing his faithful friends all gathered in the same place.

"There is a mark," Gandalf said with no timidity, "I put it there, myself." And turning the small hobbit's attention away from further injury to his house, the wizard swept a hand in the direction of the imperious dwarf who had just arrived. "Bilbo Baggins, may I introduce the leader of our company, Thorin Oakenshield."

Kili strode alongside his uncle, reaching out for the heavy cloak the majestic Thorin handed to him, while Thorin looked Bilbo up and down, assessing the hobbit for a moment.

"So," Thorin began, without bowing despite the introduction. "This is the hobbit." He scanned Bilbo's face, attempting to piece together something of the small creature's character.

He noted a softness in Bilbo's hands—clearly not a hobbit of trade, but perhaps more accustomed to flipping through the pages of his books—and the skin on his face—slightly touched by sun, but expressly clean as though he preferred to be under the cover of his roof or perhaps the brim of a hat when he _did_ venture outside.

Other mysteries were revealed by his gazing scrutiny, but he was more interested in the creature's personality. Stepping past him, he brushed the hobbit's shoulder to see how he would react while he asked, "Tell me Mr. Baggins, have you done much fighting?"

He was amused to see that Bilbo was intimidated by Thorin's move and the king determined from this that the hobbit was not an admirer of sharing space but of protecting it—something that betrayed his preference to keep to himself instead of communing with others, which wouldn't work well with their company if he were to come with them.

Thorin could see out of the corner of his eye his nephews watching him closely with entertained smiles. They knew what he was about, that he was testing the hobbit with every motion, every question.

"Pardon me?" Bilbo's eyebrows squeezed together. He glanced over his shoulder while Thorin paced behind him.

"Axe or sword, what is your weapon of choice?" Thorin said and he heard Dwalin chortle. They could see from Bilbo's build and the state of his hands that he had never touched a weapon, but the question was more to find what the creature's self-image was. Did Bilbo have a source of unrealistic pride? Would he try to raise it by answering with a lie?

"Well, I do have some skill at Conquers, if you must know." Thorin bit back a laugh, displaying a grimace instead, not wanting Bilbo to see that he was toying with him. The hobbit shrunk back when he saw the frown, seeing that his answer was not wholly adequate.

"But I fail to see why that's relevant." Bilbo hastily added.

"Thought as much," Thorin said with his arms crossed. At least the creature had been honest. If anything, that honesty said more than feigning skill with a weapon in an effort to impress. "He looks more like a grocer than a burglar."

The large host of dwarves laughed at this, but Thorin watched methodically while the Hobbit reacted with a shrug of his shoulders. It seemed Bilbo was aware of his inadequacies and felt no shame in admitting them. _This is well_, thought Thorin_. It means he is not a coward. I would rather not have a coward among us… if this hobbit is going to come at all._

* * *

Sitting beside his brother, Fili leaned his head forward to hear the question Balin pressed to his uncle.

"What news from the meeting in Ered Luin?"

Thorin was sipping from his spoon and savored the thick broth while he ducked his eyes for a moment.

Anyone who knew the dwarf intimately would understand from his expression that he was irritated by something, though those who knew him less deemed the scowl to be his general bearing. He did not speak at first and the little hobbit-hole dining room seemed anxious with waiting, though only a short moment had passed.

"Did they all come?" Balin further asked, and Fili judged that Thorin's response might be less than satisfactory.

"Aye," Thorin finally said, delaying the answer to the real question, "…all seven kingdoms."

Cheers were heard, but it only served to show Fili their ignorance to past circumstances. His uncle had made attempt after attempt to gather reconnaissance and mark plans for the mountain, to the point where his allies had become wearied—while they wished him well, they were beginning to decline in their offers to assist. Thus the numbers around Bilbo's little table were the meager few who were still hopeful…

"What do the dwarves of the Iron Hills say?" Dwalin ventured. Fili glanced cautiously at Thorin's face.

Dwalin and a few others knew of Thorin's previous quest—the disaster with the trading post—and understood that no sooner had that company returned before they had been called away again, straining Thorin's relationship with their host king, of whom Dwalin added, "Is Dain with us?"

Thorin looked down and sighed heavily. He looked as though he wanted to be careful with his words and kept his eyes focused on Dwalin.

"They will not come."

A myriad of groans and grumbles were murmured from the bodies surrounding the wooden table and Fili felt his heart in his throat. Kili's hand squeezed Fili's elbow from beneath the table, hoping to reassure his brother, though this news was not wholly unexpected.

Fili's heartbeat quickened while he scanned Thorin's eyes, silently asking a question he could never hope to utter in front of the other dwarves, comrades or not. He wished his uncle would meet his glance, but he also hoped he didn't, nervous tension gripping him.

"They say this quest is ours," Thorin spoke again, and this time his gaze finally rose to meet his heir's. Fili felt his blood halt to a stop. "And ours alone."

_He knows_. Fili understood it with that look. _He knows about Nur…_

Thorin had somehow been made aware of Fili's marriage to Nur. It was a relief to see none of their companions had an inkling of what passed between him and his uncle, but the question that plagued Fili's mind was whether the King of the Iron Hills knew of the marriage.

Certainly, he must, if his uncle knew. Fili was suddenly sure that Dain had chosen to withhold his support for their cause on the grounds that he was offended with his daughter's choice. And it sank Fili's heart. He had cost Thorin resources that might have helped him to succeed, sending a wave of guilt through him…

Fili was only faintly aware of his brother's reassuring hand on his shoulder as well as the words being said by Gandalf as a candle was brought and the wizard unfolded a map on the table. His eyes and ears were in a bit of a fog when Bofur began to describe the dragon to Bilbo. It was only when Ori suddenly stood that Fili was awakened from his stupor.

"I'm not afraid!" Ori announced. "I'm up for it!"

Fili grinned a little, seeing the younger dwarf's insistence that he was dedicated to their quest despite the odds against them. It rushed his own confidence back into his chest, giving him some hope that despite the trouble he might have caused, they still had a chance at making this venture a success.

"I'll give him a taste of dwarvish iron right up his jacksy!" Ori bellowed in his small voice. He was pulled down by Dori and the rest of them clamored, some doubting and some agreeing.

"The task would be difficult enough with an army behind us," Balin scolded. "But we number just thirteen!" Everyone hushed, some small defeat breaking into their spirits. "And not thirteen of the best… nor brightest."

"That's not helpful," Fili heard his brother mutter as the other dwarves spoke against this.

Outrage broke through Fili's chest, powering his fist as he slammed it on the table for attention. He may have been the source of handicapping their quest, but he would do everything he could to make up for it! "We may be few in number, but we're fighters, all of us—to the last dwarf!"

"And you forget," Kili said, coming to his brother's aid. "We have a wizard in our company— Gandalf will have killed_ hundreds_ of dragons in his time."

A few of them accepted this, but when Gandalf was questioned as to how many dragons he had killed and did not answer directly, the table erupted into chaos.

Thorin stood, calling for the focus of the dwarves. "If we have read these signs, do you not think _others_ will have read them, too?"

All considered their leader, but only a few really understood what he had referred to, Fili being one of them. _The petty dwarves…_ Fili felt bile rise in his throat. _Even those dwarves who had become myth after not being seen for so many years were unearthed by the reports of Erebor…_

"Rumors have begun to spread," Thorin said, reminding some of them, but informing most of them. "The dragon Smaug has not been seen in sixty years. Eyes look east to the mountain, assessing, wondering, weighing the risk. Perhaps the vast wealth of our people lies unprotected— do we sit back while others claim what is rightfully ours?" He held out a clenched fist, grabbing at the air. "Or do we seize this chance to take back Erebor? Du Bekar! Du Bekar!"

"You forget!" Balin interjected over the cheers. "The front gate is sealed! There is no way into the mountain."

"That, my dear Balin," Gandalf said, holding his hand out, "is not entirely true."

Fili thought at first that perhaps Gandalf referred to their adventure at the trading post, thinking that the wizard had found the rumored caves which had been a source of great conflict. But the wizened old hand held out a key.

"How came you by this?" Thorin asked, enamored.

"It was given to me by your father," the croak of a reply came. "By Thrain. For safe keeping. It is yours now."

Thorin took the key, and Fili could see that this was the hope his uncle had long sought—that Erebor was finally within their reach!

"If there is a key," Fili said with awe, "There must be a door!" All this time when they had been looking for a way into the halls, through means of a cave, there had been another way—a more purposeful entry!

"These runes speak of a hidden passage to the lower halls," Gandalf explained, tapping his pipe at the map on the table.

Fili was overcome with how close they had been with their planning—Thorin's searches had come up with failure after failure, but his relieved thoughts came out through Kili's mouth instead of his own.

"There's another way in…" Kili breathed, his arm around his brother's shoulder.

_Nur_, Fili thought, _our efforts were not in vain…_

* * *

**Happy Friday, everyone! I've started to include the months each chapter covers as I understand it can be a little confusing to visualize it all- I'm trying to cover so much that sometimes I forget certain details. If you come across anything you don't understand or something you'd like more of, please don't hesitate to message me (I am very willing to amend these chapters). New Chapter next Friday!**


	4. Ch 4 -- Puzzles

**Gold and Fire – Chapter 4**

_-April-_

The supposed burglar, Master Bilbo Baggins, host to 13 dwarves and a wizard, fainted.

He had been reading over a document outlining the services the dwarves were hoping to secure from him, but began to dwell on a specific point—a description of injuries which he may or may not suffer at the hands (or rather claws and teeth) of the dragon, Smaug. Bofur's embellishment of the hurts and possible death of the hobbit did nothing to help the welling panic in Bilbo's chest.

He thought that perhaps he could steady himself and ride out the sensation, but no shake of the head or huffing of air could fight against the blur of his vision and his descent to the carpet beneath his feet.

Dimly aware of the hands that helped him up, Bilbo gradually woke in his chair beside the fireplace, begging for a cup of tea. The kindly dwarf, Dori, was more than happy to comply.

"I'll be all right," Bilbo insisted, reminding himself that he had not committed to anything. He weighed the amount of shame he might feel in declining the dwarves' request for his assistance.

It was not Gandalf's condescending words or the amusing story of his forefather that inclined Bilbo to resist, but the general sentiment of his hobbit community—he was a respected hobbit because he did those things which _other_ hobbits respected. What would those same hobbits say if they knew he was even entertaining the troupe of strangers, let alone deciding whether or not to _join_ them?

There was a wistful part of him that wanted to sign their charter, to include himself on their adventure, to see the wonderful things the world had to offer, but it was being drowned out by the voices of his elders and peers.

"Get your head out of the clouds," he had been told as a child, and eventually Bilbo's infatuation with elves and adventures had been beaten down by the harsh reality that he would never be taken seriously unless he adhered to everyone _else's_ way of thinking. While it had been hard to come to terms with when he was younger, he certainly saw the wisdom in it now.

_Still,_ he asked himself silently, _if this had happened ten or twenty years ago, would I have accepted the dwarves' offer then?_

_Yes_, he answered himself honestly.

_Then put that notion out of your mind_, said the voices of the other hobbits. _Better to stay safely within the comfort of your walls than go romping through the woods with strangers—and dwarves, no less!—to an almost certain death._

"I'm sorry," Bilbo whispered aloud to Gandalf. "You've got the wrong hobbit." …though it broke a piece of his heart to say it.

* * *

Thorin watched Bilbo walk away from his conversation with Gandalf, defeat in his stance.

"It appears," Balin muttered in front of him, occupying a bench in a rounded hallway. "We have lost our burglar."

Propping himself against a hallway support column, Thorin looked surprisingly calm and collected. He was secretly relieved that the hobbit wasn't interested in coming with them, despite the soundness of Gandalf's plan. It seemed impossible, these days, for Thorin to open his trust to anyone—even those who claimed to be his allies were proving themselves to be treacherous and he pointed that thought on his recent dealings with Dain.

"Probably for the best," Balin continued. "The odds were always against us."

Thorin's eyes ceased their following of Bilbo and gazed in sympathy at the aged warrior before him.

"After all," Balin moaned in exhaustion, his tired composure having to do more with their quest than age. "What are we? Merchants, miners, tinkers, toymakers? Hardly the stuff of legend."

Thorin grinned at his older mentor. "There are a few warriors amongst us."

"Old warriors," Balin conceded, nodding.

"I would take each and every one of these dwarves over an army from the Iron Hills." Thorin scowled. "For when I called upon them, they answered." His resentment of Dain was still fresh, even after days of travel…

He took a step forward, centering his focus on Balin and suppressing his anger against Dain for the moment. "Loyalty, honor, and a willing heart."

Balin looked around, an objection parting his lips with words that he could not summon.

"I can ask no more than that." Thorin asserted.

"You don't have to do this," Balin begged, standing. "You have a choice. You've done honorably by our people! You have built a new life for us in the Blue Mountains," Balin offered. "A life of peace and plenty. A life that is more than all the gold in Erebor."

But Thorin's mind was not on gold, it was on Nur and Dul, on the traders of the outpost, and even on his sister, Dis. Thorin's heart wanted to accept his advisor's wisdom, but his mind could not forget those who were waiting on him to bring them sanctuary.

The customs and ways of Erebor were being lost, even to those in the Blue Mountains, as other kings and leaders were casting off the old ways and accepting the customs of _men_—including forcing their daughters to marry against their will, a thought which would never have crossed the minds of the dwarves of old. Those dwarves would _never_ have denied their daughters the opportunity to be joined with their One.

Thorin meant to preserve those rights and freedoms, but he could not do it without a kingdom.

"From my grandfather to my father this has come to me," he said, holding up the key he had received from Gandalf. His grandfather and father were giving him more than just a key—more than just _passage_ into Erebor—it was also the preservation of customs which would finally be re-established with his rule when that key was used in their quest. "They dreamt of the day when the dwarves of Erebor would reclaim their homeland."

Balin sighed, understanding that Thorin was referring to more than just gold.

"There is no choice, Balin," Thorin said. _No choice when so many are waiting for me to accomplish this feat._ "Not for me."

Balin nodded, "Then we are with you, laddie." He reached out a hand to pat Thorin's arm. "We will see it done."

* * *

Warm smoke rose from Fili's pipe while he sat beside Dwalin. The hulking figure of his mentor had stretched his legs out and crossed his arms, quiet company beside the dwarf princeling. Just the dwarf's presence was comforting to the young lad while he mulled over the new information they'd been given.

The company's high spirits had died down with the evening, but they chattered cheerfully to each other.

"Fili," he heard his name called as his uncle stepped slowly into the room. "I need to speak with you."

Fili could feel his brother's eyes on him while he strode nervously to join Thorin in the hallway which had been earlier occupied with his advisor. He did not glance behind him, but tried to mentally prepare himself for what he knew was going to come next.

But that was just it—he _didn't know_ what was going to come next. If his uncle's grimace was any indication of his thoughts, it wouldn't be good.

"Uncle," Fili began, but Thorin cut him off with an upheld hand.

"I'm not sure what you were thinking, but I expect my heir to show a little more restraint when he comes up against something he wants and meets resistance. I had an earful of dishonor from Dain, with the seven kingdoms as witness. I'm sure I was the only one there understanding of why you felt you had to secure Nur as your wife without permission from her father."

Fili's head ducked and he knew he deserved that remark. "I'm sorry if I've disappointed you." And then he wavered in his guilt and his head came up again. "But at the same time I cannot apologize for my actions..."

Thorin's eyebrows raised and he crossed his arms, patiently waiting for Fili to explain himself.

"King Dain was never set on helping us to begin with."

"You can't know that." Thorin countered. "Not for certain."

"I can if Nur told me such." Fili said, raising a single eyebrow. "And I can also be certain that he was intending another courtship for her while I was away."

"That," Thorin pointed a large finger at his nephew in condescension, "is no reason to disturb alliances. Do you not remember the talks we had in the forest between the outpost and the Iron Hills? Do you not remember when I told you that as leaders we must sometimes sacrifice personal happiness for the sake of our people?"

Fili's jaw clenched and he stared at the ground.

"Do you not remember," Thorin continued in a quieter voice, "my own example in that advice?"

Fili clenched his eyes shut and felt a heavy weight of guilt. He knew what Thorin was alluding to—once, long ago, this his uncle had been courting his own lass and had to make a terrible decision to set her aside for the sake of his people when they were most in need. It was a decision that weighed heavily on the older dwarf, aging him in a way no one would ever know because _no one ever_ talked about it. No one even dared say _her_ name.

"I am sorry," Fili said in genuine remorse, "if I have cost us our quest. I never meant to—"

Fili stopped short when Thorin reached out a hand to rest on his shoulder. For a moment, just a short moment, Fili thought the older dwarf meant to strike him—he wouldn't have blamed his uncle if he had, he felt he was deserving of it and did not understand how Thorin could keep from looking so angry.

"What's done is done," Thorin said, and he surprised Fili with a small smile at the corner of his lips. "We cannot change that. I need you to know that I will not hold this against you and that all is truly well and forgiven. The only thing that can help now," Thorin raised his eyes to meet Fili's, "is concentrating our efforts on taking back Erebor, not dwelling on what we could have done differently."

While Fili thought he was entirely unworthy of his uncle's forgiveness, he was startled when he felt Thorin's strong arms enfolding him and relented to the embrace. When the two pulled away from each other, Thorin was grinning from ear to ear as if responding to an unheard joke.

"I would never admit this to anyone else," Thorin said in a voice that sounded much lighter than his usual morose tone, "but I am secretly satisfied in seeing someone else choose a path I was not fortunate enough to walk myself." He turned to walk into the next room, but tilted his head back, glancing at Fili from the corner of his eye. "And that stays between us."

"Uncle," Fili watched Thorin halt. "Do you mean to tell the company?" he asked cautiously.

Thorin turned to fully face his nephew. "Did you want me to?"

Fili shook his head. "Not yet." And then he paused. "Do… Do I have your blessing?"

Thorin chuckled, turning back to his nephew after a moment. "She may not realize it, but I gave my blessing to Nur long before _you_ ever asked for it."

And with that, the two walked together into the fireplace room, where Bofur had begun to hum a familiar tune about that fateful day in Erebor.

* * *

Bilbo's first moments in the waking world did not include his memory of what had happened the night before. He took in the gleam of morning light through his window, the wax of candles melted over, and the warm, cotton-like scent of his soft bed-sheets beneath him and wondered if he was going to cook eggs or bacon.

Both, he decided ravenously. He'd only had a small dinner the night before, why had he—?

"Oh," Bilbo groaned in recollection. The dwarves. After they'd raided his pantry, he was left wondering if he had any bacon left at all!

Peeking his head around the corner of his room, the hobbit expected at least to see the bodies of sleeping dwarves strewn about his halls… but there was no one.

Furthermore, the place was relatively clean. Had they really gone to the trouble of picking up after themselves?

_There, you've done it_, Bilbo's inner voices chimed in congratulations. _There's no joining them now! They've up and left and you can return to your routine._

But then he eyed the contract, still sitting on the table beside his armchair.

_That was an opportunity that only comes once_, a small voice whined in his head. _And it is seldom offered to hobbits!_

_That's no good, doubting yourself_, the multiple scolders reproached the small voice. _You're an honorable hobbit and you've done rightly!_

_Honorable?_ He questioned himself, picking up his jacket and slipping his arms through the sleeves. _Since when was it moral to turn down those asking for help?_

_And what_, the condescending voices smirked, _could _you _have offered them?_

_So I am highly esteemed and yet I am useless?_ He though indignantly. He pulled at a sack of apples and two loaves of bread, along with a pen and some paper_. My merit, as it were, is based on nothing more than my ability to stifle what I really want! My reputation is based on what _others _want me to do, and for once in my life I am going to do something that _I _want!_

This reflection baffled the scorning inner voices and he realized that he had subconsciously gone for his leather pack and had stuffed the food and the writing instrument inside. He became aware of himself, grasping the contract and the pack in his hands and standing in front of his door as though he were making ready to leave.

"Is this really what you want, Bilbo?" He asked himself aloud.

_Yes!_ The small voice, suddenly strengthened, shouted. _Adventure!_

* * *

For five months, Nur had been in basic military instruction. She had not yet begun the Akkik —the stipulation being that they pass through generic instruction first and on completion enter into the Akkik training.

She stood on the doorstep of her commander's office, pack over her shoulder full of her meager supplies. The dwarf behind the desk lifted his head up, as though unimpressed, and handed her a paper without speaking further.

"Thank you." She bowed. She had become accustomed at this point to the various forms of treatment others gave her in regards to her status as Princess of the Iron Hills, which mostly consisted of scorn. They seemed to think her royal blood made her incapable. But no matter how harshly everyone else had judged her, she had not lost her civility and promised that she would retain it for as long as she could.

Making her way through a harsh granite hallway, she realized that she would be seeing Dul again after so many long months of seclusion with her fellow cadet lasses. King Dain did not believe in training lads and lasses together, but the Akkik trainers had no such qualms, even quartering the genders in the same rooms.

Glancing at the paper in her hand, she realized that the room she had come to was indeed the room she was meant to enter, the markings on the wall reading clearly the same as the scrawled message she was looking at. Nur only doubted it because this area of the halls looked unkept and abandoned.

The grey hallway was dimly lit, further into the mountain than her previous training complex and dorms. A red-haired dwarf stood nearby the door, hands clasped behind him, leaning against the wall. He did not speak, but took in the sight of Nur and her pack.

She knew from his expression that he would not offer her assistance, would not ask her if she was in the right place. The only souls walking through this Mahal-forsaken hallway were the ones who intended to be there.

Handing him the paper, Nur glanced into the dark room with a quickened heartbeat, taking a deep breath before stepping into it.

She made it a few steps into the room before she heard the door close behind her and the sound of a lock being put in place. The wooden door had a few small cracks in which she could barely make out signs of light.

It was pitch black.

But she knew better than to panic at this. This was only the beginning of her first day and she would forgo the idea of fear in her first moments.

Rather than venture further into the blackness, she let out a low whistle, testing the walls for echo and seeing if she could measure the space with sound. From what she could tell, though she had never performed such a test, the room measured a few yards out in all directions with a high ceiling.

Before she could decide what to do next, the door opened enough to allow another dwarf into the room before closing again.

"Is someone there?" The startled voice of a female dwarf whispered.

"Just in front of you." Nur announced in a calm voice. She felt the groping hands of the blinded dwarf behind her, shaking with anxiety.

"What are we supposed to be doing in here?" The voice asked.

Nur rose an eyebrow. "Waiting." She said, as though the answer was obvious. She knelt to the floor and told the newer dwarf to do the same.

With the quiet moments that passed, each learned the other's name. The newcomer was Oda, apparently a cadet that belonged to the same class as Nur, though Nur had never learned her name before this.

They spoke softly when two more bodies entered the room, and they could see from the meager light that one of them was of great build and height, standing only a few steps from the door while assessing the room. The other dwarf was smaller, comprised of sharp angles, and this body flitted off into the shadows, unspeaking.

Nur couldn't be sure, but she called out her friend's name in the hopes that her measurement of the built dwarf who had just joined them was not off. "Dul?"

"Nur." He breathed in relief. "Where are you, lass?"

"Just a few steps in front of you."

Nur was pushed forward by the bump on her pack and Dul's hands reached out, pulling her in for an embrace. She smiled, the familiar arms of her friend bringing her small comfort in this mysterious place, and patted his forearm before looking around again in the hopes that her eyes would somehow adjust to their surroundings.

Pulling her pack around to the front, Nur reached a hand into it and began fumbling for the feel of her flint.

"What are you doing?"

"Fire." Nur answered simply. "Or a spark. Anything."

"Are you allowed to do that?" came Oda's voice.

"Allowed?" Nur rolled the word around in her mouth. "Oda, I hardly think 'allowed' is something applicable to us in the Akkik."

Nur's hands worked the pieces of flint together and a spark of light shot out. Reaching into her pack again, she caught hold of a parchment paper and crumpled it, laying it on the stony ground beneath her feet. Striking the flint again, she set it above the paper and watched it flicker to life in a small fire.

Their eyes scanned the room and they saw that the stony walls were smooth except for a few random scratched-out lines, confirming Nur's earlier guess that they measured a few yards out and to the side. The ceiling was high, as she'd suspected, but her eyes rested on a corner of the room where a fourth person knelt.

Vaguely she could make out the dwarf lass with long, black hair and a strange mustache, a scowl on her face. She eyed the others warily, making no motion to come closer to them.

Nur chanced a look behind her. Oda was enormous, though it had nothing to do with her belly—her arms and legs were thick with only a slight tone of muscle, and her mousy brown hair looked almost sandy blonde. Oda's jawline was dusted with short stubble, though none collected on her chin.

Dul had not changed much, and this was a sight Nur was pleased with. She imagined her own build had changed a little in that five months, but Dul looked strengthened and healthy.

The light waned and the paper burned out entirely, but Nur was satisfied with the glimpse they'd stolen and shuffled her way to a wall, sitting against it and leaning her head back.

She heard Dul thump to the floor beside her, but was unable to see anything within the black.

Nur was not unwilling to make conversation, but Oda was a talkative spirit who lingered on the mystery of not having received any instructions in the closed-off room. Dul came to her aid, though, when the lass became irksome and he proceeded to ask questions about her home and family.

The first hour had been filled with talk.

The second hour had been filled with yawns.

The third hour had been filled with snores.

The twenty-one hours following caused Oda's panic to rise steadily. They were all tired of the room, but Oda was the extreme.

"I'm going to try the door." Nur groaned, rising from her spot against the wall and locating the dimmed outlines coming through the cracks of the door. It wasn't difficult as those lines were the only feature of the room any of them could see.

"But they've locked it!" Oda said in a whimper.

"And if this is a logic puzzle in which we are not free until one of us figures it out," Nur suggested, "then I for one do not want to be sitting here for another day, waiting to be rescued." The thought had passed through her mind that perhaps they were being tested in this room and that the dwarf on the outside had made a _sound_ like the locking of a door without truly confining them, waiting for someone to try the obvious.

She pulled against the handle of the door, but it didn't budge.

She pushed against the door, but it didn't budge.

She kicked a powerful foot at the door, but it didn't budge.

"Am I supposed to call out some sort of password?" Nur called through the door, knowing full well that it was possible no one was there.

Laughter came from behind it. "No, lass."

Nur grumbled to herself, actively thinking on anything else she might try.

"It was a good idea, Nur," Dul encouraged.

Nur's hand rested on the handle again. It was extremely loose, and from what she could tell by the feel of it, it was a large wooden brick with a hole drilled into it, a curved ring of iron passing through the hole and anchoring it to the door. She jiggled it a little and realized it was loose was because the iron ring was not a _closed_ ring, but a curve like a half-moon.

Her eyebrows raised when the handle came completely loose in her hand and she made her way to what she deemed to be the middle of the room with it. "Dul," she called, "can you please bring me my pack?"

She heard movement and the skidding of her leather pack being dragged along the floor. Dul bumped into her shoulder and muttered an apology while she reached for her flint from the bottom of her belongings, bringing out the flint and another paper.

"We're going to try this again," Nur called to the others. "I have the handle from the door, a piece of wood. But before I light this, I don't want to waste the light. What did we see the last time we had a look around?"

"The walls," Oda whispered. "They were covered with scratchmarks. Probably from the last dwarves confined in this room."

"Were there any other features?" Nur prompted, ignoring her scared companion's dismay. "Any filled-in windows, any cracks, anything?"

"None that I could see," Dul answered, "those walls are plastered smooth, and the ground beneath us is stone."

Nur hadn't taken a look at the floor the last time they'd had light, but Dul had, in the previous hours, crawled over every inch of their confines on his hands and knees to see if perhaps there was a trap door.

"What are we missing, then?" Nur gripped the flint, her own fear causing her to want to strike it immediately though her mind told her to keep planning before she did anything.

"The ceiling." Came the voice from the female dwarf in the corner. She had kept to herself in the last twenty-four hours, only growling at Dul when he'd accidentally touched her in his scouring of the floor.

"She's right," Dul reached out a hand to Nur's shoulder, and she presumed he was looking upward. "I don't know how long your fire will hold…"

"There's only one way to find out." Nur said, accepting the fate that they might be there another day if this last resort failed to turn up anything.

* * *

**Happy Friday...! Or rather, late Thursday- I'm sure you've noticed I'm completely paranoid about getting chapters out on time, so when I have the chance to get them out before Friday, I TAKE IT. **

**A big thank you to my wonderful Beta readers: BlueRiverSteel and SummerAlden! Really, these pages wouldn't be what they are without those two- and seriously, check out their stuff, it's better than mine ;) **

**For those heading back to school, Happy New School Year! **

**As always, leave me a review to let me know you love me! :) See you next Friday!**


	5. Ch 5 -- Breaking Hobbits--er, Habits

**Gold and Fire – Chapter 5**

—_May—_

Fili imagined that Mr. Baggins would have given anything to be in his armchair back home. Although, Fili also imagined the hobbit wouldn't mind being _anywhere_ other than where he was at the moment… in the hands of a troll!

Bilbo bringing dinner to the brothers had turned into Bilbo helping the brothers figure out where the horses had gone to… which had turned into Bilbo helping the brothers spy out the trolls… which had turned into Bilbo sneaking beneath the trolls and the brothers watching from a distance.

It didn't matter how many steps there were in between; Bilbo bringing them dinner had led to Bilbo falling into peril.

"Look what's come out of me hooter!" the younger troll shouted, limply grasping the hobbit while the other two looked on. "It's got arms and legs and everything!" it said while its eyes went askew, each in a different direction.

Fili could hear the trolls speaking to Bilbo, but Kili had begun to pull on his elbow and he turned his head away from the halfling's predicament.

"We need to _do_ something!" Kili whispered insistently.

"Would you like to take down three trolls by yourself?" Fili considered for a moment that his brother rarely took his own size and strength into account, only his willingness. "We need a better plan than attack—"

"_You're_ the one that didn't want to alert Thorin." Kili hissed, ducking further under the brush and peering through the leaves at one of the trolls. "I think now would be a good time to amend that."

As much as Fili hated to leave Bilbo alone with the trolls, it would only be for a moment while he fetched a number of dwarves feasible enough to defeat the threat before them. But when he saw that Kili stayed where he was, with no intention of heading back, a stern expression crept onto Fili's face.

"Stay put." Fili said with a glower. "You really would try take down three trolls by yourself, wouldn't you?"

"Staying put." Kili muttered without raising his head.

Fili dashed through the shrubbery, his speed more important to him than keeping quiet. It was ironic, but he was more uncomfortable with leaving Kili unattended than he was in abandoning the hobbit momentarily.

"He really _would_ try to take down three trolls by himself!" Fili whispered in anger, repeating himself for the third time.

* * *

"Are there any more of you burglar-hobbits hiding round here?" The troll said with a slimy lick of his mouth. He hung Bilbo by his leg and looked into his face.

"Nope, just me!" Bilbo answered, squirming in the sticky grasp of the strong but squishy fingers.

"He's lying!" The youngest shouted.

"I'm not!" Bilbo interjected.

"Hold his toes over the fire!"

Kili had been watching long enough—_why hadn't Fili returned yet?_—with the knowledge that trolls were ruthless. They seldom threatened anything, preferring to get right to the point of things, and while Kili could appreciate their tenacity, it meant that his friend had only moments before the trolls would hover the hobbit over the fire. And Kili was certain that while they had said "toes over the fire", they really weren't sure which end of the hobbit was up.

Jumping from the brush, Kili began a hefty swing through the air.

"Make him squeal!" The youngest added to his earlier comment, but then he erupted in a whine when Kili's sword grazed the back of his leg.

While Kili added a swing to the trolls foot for good measure, he shouted, "Drop him!"

"You what?" The troll holding Bilbo sneered, unimpressed.

"I said," Kili growled, brandishing his blade, "_drop him_."

The troll complied, but sent the hobbit flying in Kili's direction. Afraid that his sword might impale the flying Bilbo, Kili threw it to the forest floor, catching the surprised hobbit around the waist and softening the impact as they both fell over.

It was at that moment that the rest of the dwarves came running through the brush and attacked the trolls with battle cries and roars! Swords pierced gravelly troll hide while Bilbo did his best to free the ponies from their prison, but it was not long before the scuffle was interrupted.

"Lay down your arms!" a troll yelled above the raucous. The dwarves halted, staring at the two trolls who held each of Bilbo's limbs. "Or we'll rip his off!"

Kili was terrified, knowing they may just act on it despite the dwarves surrender. He glanced at Thorin and watched in horror as his uncle stuck his sword into the ground.

* * *

The dwarves found themselves tied inside smelly sacks with only their heads free through the openings, piled atop each other. A handful of them were bound to a spit and rotating high above the flames of the troll campfire. Bilbo was sure that their proximity to the flame meant no immediate danger, but the heat rushing up from underneath them was so directed that it might roast them.

"You're making a terrible mistake!" Bilbo shouted, turning his shoulders and balancing his weight to try and stand. It was easier than he thought it would be, but any further movement was hindered by the sack. The trolls might be less than intelligent, but the sacks were—unfortunately for the dwarves and hobbit—reliable enough to keep the captives from running off.

"You can't reason with them!" Dori shouted from his bindings on the spit. "They're half-wits."

"Halfwits? What does that make us?" Bofur jeered from under Nori's knees, which were bound in place by ropes on either side of the miner's shoulders.

"I meant," Bilbo continued loudly, hoping that the dwarves would catch on, "with the seasoning."

The ensuing conversation turned to the subject of how to properly cook dwarves, holding the trolls interest for a while Bilbo's eye caught movement just beside campsite—Gandalf! The wizard had returned! Though Bilbo was relieved, he was also jolted into thinking fast when the youngest troll hoisted up Bombur by his legs and made as though to plop the dwarf straight down the its throat.

"Not that one!" Bilbo called. "He's infected!" Bilbo's voice broke on the word 'infected' and he hoped the trolls wouldn't catch the nervousness in his voice.

The hobbit's tale now consisted of worms. While the trolls were a disgusting lot—they had to be to consider eating a wriggling dwarf raw—the idea of ingesting something disease-ridden did not sit well with them.

Bilbo winced as Bombur was immediately dropped on top of Kili, who grunted under the weight of the plump dwarf. The hobbit continued, sensing that his story had saved Bombur well enough, and included the rest of the troupe.

"They _all_ them—they're infested with parasites." Bilbo leaned forward, as if offering some sage advice. "It's a terrible business. I wouldn't risk it. I really wouldn't."

Bilbo was beginning to feel as though his strategy was a success and that the wizard lurking in the shadows might be ready to make his move, but Kili's voice cut through the murmurs of the other dwarves and shattered Bilbo's confidence.

"We don't have parasites!" The young dwarf shouted angrily. "_You_ have parasites!"

But Kili's insult was immediately silenced by Thorin's boot striking him on the head. Kili turned back to face his uncle awkwardly from where he lay and his confused grimace gave way to wide eyes as he got the hint.

"I've got parasites as big as my arm!" Oin clamored from beside Kili.

"Mine are the biggest parasites!" Kili countered in desperation. "I've got _huge_ parasites!"

If the thick-headed dwarves had put together Bilbo's plot, it was no surprise that the trolls began to catch on, the loudest of them ducking down to Bilbo and growling, "You think I don't know what you're up to?"

The bulky troll lumbered to the other side of the spit, turning the wheel faster. "This little ferret is taking us for fools."

"The dawn will take you all!" A deep voice sang out, with a luminous presence appearing atop a boulder behind the trolls.

"Who's that?" The cooking troll whined.

"No idea." The other troll murmured in boredom.

"Can we eat him, too?" The youngest perked up.

Gandalf's staff came crashing down on the rocky structure at his feet and the stone split cleanly down the middle, a portion shifting to the side and revealing the warm beams of daylight.

Writhing under the streams of light, the trolls' tough flesh began to smoke and dust, their arms outstretched to shield their eyes with horrified wails. A few moments later they were stone behemoths, frozen in poses with feet settled firmly on the ground.

At first, Bilbo thought it might have been some trick on the part of the trolls. His brow furrowed and he eyed them steadily, waiting for them to move again, but realizing with the cries of triumph around him that the trolls were as good as dead.

* * *

Knife in hand, Fili helped the other dwarves free from their sacks, but could not help overhearing his uncle speaking to the wizard who had been their savior.

"Where did you go to, if I may ask?" Thorin spoke.

"To look ahead." Gandalf said simply.

"What made you come back?"

"Looking behind." Gandalf raised a brow.

Fili saw his uncle nod with a small smile.

"Nasty business." Gandalf said. "Still, you're all in one piece."

While the dwarves began to explore a cave nearby—the hoard of the trolls which held trinkets and weapons from their previous meals—Kili sat atop a stone troll and began to whittle a branch.

Fili climbed and plopped next to his brother, a grim expression on his face. "What happened to staying put?" he ground out.

Kili rolled his eyes and continued carving.

"I'm serious." Fili pulled at his brother's shoulder until the dwarf was facing him.

"I knew you were right behind me and there wasn't any time to waste. They were about to—"

"You saved the hobbit, that's true enough," Fili conceded, but he took his forehead in his hand. "But to see you at their mercy when I was so far away..."

Kili nodded, lowering his eyes to the remnant of wood his knife had chipped at, which was no more than a narrow shaft. "You can't always keep watch over me, Fee. Sooner or later—"

"Hopefully later." Fili mumbled, leaning on his hands while his feet dangled in the air. He didn't care how Kili finished his statement, it all came out to the same end.

"—you're going to have to trust me."

Fili watched as the other dwarves moved about below them. "I want to. You're no longer…would you be understanding if I said old habits are hard to break?"

"Let's just call it practice for when your little ones grow up."

The thought startled Fili as he realized what his brother said was true. _Little ones…_ was fatherhood really so close? He was so heavily invested in their quest that he hadn't thought of it. He entertained the notion that Nur could be bearing their first child even now and he would have no way of knowing, no way of learning it until he saw her again. He suddenly felt bereft, considering that if this were true, he would miss those moments with his dear wife.

"Fili," Kili's voice cut through his thoughts, and he realized his younger brother had turned his full attention on him, the knife returned to its sheath and the wittled branch tossed aside. "What's wrong?"

Fili wasn't sure what his face was displaying, but it must have been something of a grimace if Kili looked as concerned as he did.

"It's nothing." Fili said, brushing his brother off. "Just my thoughts running away with me."

His brother said nothing to this, but glanced at the dwarves who were preparing to leave.

Laying back and resting the crook of his elbow over his eyes, Fili sighed. "I'm sorry, Kili. I'm sorry for the way I am."

"If you mean serious and brooding, I don't think you can help it." Kili said with a lopsided grin. "If you haven't noticed, you may as well consider it now- you bear a striking resemblance to a certain dwarf." He inclined his head at their uncle. Thorin strode from the troll hoard, carrying something covered in cobwebs and dust.

The blonde prince chuckled. "He may have passed down his character to me, but his resemblance belongs to you."

"Keep your character," Kili smirked, "I'd rather woo the lasses with a handsome face and a hearty laugh."

Fili moved his arm away from his face and rolled his head to the side. "Ah, but the ladies like serious and brooding, as you call it. They think it's mysterious."

"I pity you if you think that's true," Kili laughed. "Fortunately, you're already married."

A long, slow exhale left Fili's mouth while he clamped his eyes shut. The evenings he had spent with his wife were few, but had already made such an impact on him that it was difficult to endure this journey without her warmth beside him. He'd hated sleeping alone in his bedroll those first few days of leaving the Iron Hills, but now he felt her body's absence that much more acutely.

"Seven months..." Fili muttered under his breath. "I have not seen her for seven months..."

Kili shook his head. "Eight. Have you forgotten the season?"

"Thank you," Fili muttered dryly. "_That_ makes it better."

Rolling his eyes, Kili's hand disappeared into his jacket and found a crumpled paper. Fili sat up slowly, watching with curiosity as Kili unfolded it and handed the paper over to him. "What's this?"

"She told me you were going to start moping," Kili looked to be fighting a wide grin, "and when you did, I was instructed to give you this."

Fili snatched the letter from Kili's hands and devoured its written message with his eyes.

"One last act from your carrier pigeon." The dark-haired archer muffled a laugh and slid down the back of the troll. Fili wanted to thank his brother for the moment alone and for the letter, but he was completely focused on reading the swoops and flourishes of ink which belonged to the hand of his wife:

_To my One,_

_I will write to you every day. I have no way of sending the letters, though, so you will have quite a bit to read when we have returned to each other. They are nothing of consequence, just a reminder that you are in my thoughts. And if nothing else, they are the only thing I can do aside from pray for your safety._

_I have asked Kili to withhold this letter until a time when you look to be disheartened- I am sure, as I know my friend well, that he has laughed at your expense enough during your travels, but please have patience with him. If I cannot be there to make sure you are smiling every so often, then I name Kili my emissary in that pursuit._

"Nur," Fili finally said her name aloud. He had been holding himself back, as if putting her out of his mind for as long as possible might keep his longing for her at bay.

_Do not lose hope, love. You cannot lose hope. You are doing what no one else could, braving long travels to a mountain no one dares walk into. Continue to have courage, continue to be strong- you are the best of us, and if you cannot do this then none of us can. _

_The Lonely Mountain is not so far away now as it was before, is it, love? You are further now than ever you were before and I am proud of you. You will soon be renown for your might, songs will be sung in your honor, and dwarves will bow down before the future King of Erebor for all that he did in taking it back and in ruling it with justice and love. But know that I was proud of you even before this. Know that I loved you before the world heaped its praises on you. _

_I am writing this while I watch you sleep and my heart might burst from happiness just taking in the sight of you. Do you know all that you are to me? I am sure that the nights to come will be difficult to bear without you to warm me._

"Or _you_ to warm _me_," Fili snorted in bitterness. He couldn't help but remember her soft skin...

_I love you fiercely, there is nothing I wouldn't do for you. __Return to me soon._

_All my love, Nur_

* * *

_-May-_

Nur and three other dwarves had been contained in a lightless room for a whole day before she had chanced upon the flimsy wooden handle of the door, and with a flint in her military pack there was only one thing left to do. They had been left with no instructions but plenty of restrictions, causing Nur to understand that the instructors of the Akkik were testing them—perhaps even watching them.

Her companions were Dul, faithful friend, and Oda, nervous soldier lass. The other female dwarf withheld her name and made no conversation with the other three.

And now Nur stood over the miniscule fire, glancing up at the ceiling and seeing a circular opening, wide enough for a small dwarf to pass into.

"I can hoist someone onto my shoulders," Dul said. "And maybe they can reach up and crawl through…"

The dwarf in the corner snorted at this, sending Oda an amused expression. Oda's head hung, eyes cast down. "That rules me out. It will have to be Nur or…" she glanced in the direction of the still unnamed lass.

"No." The lass shook her head with a scowl. "Only Mahal knows what's waiting up there."

Nur sighed in exasperation at the lass. "I'll do it. We have no idea how much longer they intend to keep us here."

"You're all over-reacting." The unnamed lass jeered, leaning back where the walls came together in the corner. "The Akkik values strength and _endurance_."

"Then you stay there and _endure_." Dul sneered at her, kneeling in front of Nur and offering her a hand.

Nur steadied herself with Dul's hand and gingerly placed a foot on his knee. She then sat on one of his shoulders while he stood, balancing carefully.

It took a little doing, but with Oda's hands against her back, Nur finally brought herself to stand on both of Dul's shoulders and touched the ceiling with her palms. She took a deep breath and pulled her legs up to the ceiling.

Flipping her body through the hole after her legs, she peered around the crawl space, realizing that the light in the room below was beginning to fade already.

Ducking her head through the hole, she locked eyes with Dul and spoke quickly. "There's food in my pack, hand it out if you need to. I'm going to be crawling blind up here, but I promise I'm going to find the way out."

Dul nodded his head at her, the last bits of light drifting away and darkening his face. "Mahal's luck."

She pulled away from the hole, but stopped when Dul called her again. Peering through the hole, she met his eyes with the last gleam of light.

"If _he_ could see you now, he'd be proud." Dul said softly.

Nur pulled her head away from the hole and rested it on the surface beneath her, taking in a shaky breath. She knew Dul meant Fili.

She honestly wondered if Fili would be proud or upset that she had joined her father's military at all…but shaking those thoughts away, she reminded herself that there were three trapped dwarves below her and that she had a responsibility to see them freed before long.

Crawling slowly on her hands and knees, Nur realized that the darkness started to subside and a light began to show in the passage before her. Quickening her movements, she realized there was another hole in front of her, this one leading to a room illuminated by bright light. Or perhaps the light wasn't so much bright as she was weak from darkness.

She examined the hole and saw that it was a room similar to the one she'd just come from, though there were torches on the walls, and she ducked her head through to measure the distance to the floor.

It was a long drop, probably enough to injure her if she fell the wrong way, but part of her soldier's instruction had covered rolling through a fall to lessen the impact—and this she did, with much satisfaction when the ceiling disappeared and the room came into better sight.

With a thump she landed and rose to her feet, realizing she was not alone.

"Nur." A male dwarf said.

"Gamul!" Nur's eyes widened in recognition. She glanced behind her and noticed the open door. "Am I free to leave and rescue my companions?"

"There's nothing stopping you, is there?" Gamul raised an eyebrow, clasping his hands behind his back.

Nur nodded, recognizing that the Akkik training was going to be one of implication instead of outright orders. And while _she_ might not have a problem with it, she knew others might… like Oda. Oda was a good soldier and very capable, but not a leader. It would not be pleasant, Nur mused, to watch her friend come to understand the ways of the Akkik.

She strode out the door and down the hallway, identifying it as the same she had passed through the day before—though it felt like longer than a day—and grasped at the keys which rested on a nail in the wall.

Unlocking and opening the door, Nur was about to encourage them to come forward and into the light.

Gamul was standing just behind her and ushered her into the room before the others had a chance to leave it. He followed after, bringing in a torch and standing a few steps before the doorway with a hand on his hip.

The three dwarves held their arms above their eyes for a moment, the light of the torch unbearable after so much time in the complete black, and then lowered them as it became easier to see.

"My name is Gamul." He announced, one hand resting on the small of his back and the other holding the torch above his head. His single white braid came around his neck and down his shoulder, almost elf-like in its fish-tail weave. "And none of you would have survived captivity under goblins."

Nur started to object, but her previous weapons-instructor sent her an angry look that stopped her.

"I do not even credit the Princess with a proper escape because she brought none of you with her."

"She came back, though," Oda said with timidity.

Gamul took a step forward, looking Oda up and down with a scowl that wilted the much taller dwarf. "A lone dwarf running from goblins with no way to fight back—she would have been recaptured or killed."

Nur was suddenly distracted from the conversation by her glance at the nameless lass who still occupied the room's corner. The dwarf was sculpted with lean muscle, but her bones seemed to be protruding her skin. A long, thin, black mustache braided itself out from her upper lip to rest behind her ears. Nur thought it might have been a trick on the eyes, however, as it seemed more likely the dwarf's hair had been woven into the mustache.

The black-haired dwarf saw Nur looking over her and sent her a sneer. Her eyes seemed almost black…

"Follow me." Nur heard Gamul say, and she shook herself out of her trance.

Gathering up her pack and following closely behind Dul, they walked through the hallway and further into the mountain.

"Your quarters for the next few months are about two thousand steps from the outside training deck." Gamul explained while they walked. "You are expected to report to the deck before the sun rises."

"And if we oversleep?" The nameless dwarf asked.

Gamul raised an eyebrow, but did not break stride. "I wouldn't suggest it." When he heard nothing in reply, he added, "Did you expect me to threaten you? To describe some sort of punishment if you don't adhere to the rules? You're in The Akkik, now, and we expect you to maintain certain standards for yourselves."

No one spoke for the duration of the walk, finally reaching a set of rooms which held bunks and cabinets.

"All the same," Gamul continued, as though the conversation hadn't been broken off by the time it took them to reach their quarters. "If you come late and find that we've left without you, you may end up missing out on important teachings—and you might be looked down upon if the next day you are enduring a trial in the wild with no idea of what you're expected to do."

He held open a door and waved the four dwarves in.

"Are we _all_ lodging here?" Oda asked with a shy glance at Dul.

"Are there any spare rooms?" The lass-with-no-name asked, but Nur guessed that it was more out of disdain for her new bunkmates rather than echoing Oda's concern.

"The other rooms are occupied with soldiers further along in their training. You're welcome to try and bunk with them." Gamul said with a slightly crooked smile.

Something Nur knew about Gamul that perhaps the others didn't was that the things he said could be taken as either cruel or amused. She already trusted the older dwarf, though, and understood from their previous encounters that he was never, ever cruel—He did, however, find other's ways of thinking to be entertaining.

Lass-with-no-name picked up her gear and headed through the doorway and down the hall.

"Remember, training deck. Before sunrise." Gamul said, shaking his head.

"Gamul," Nur felt awkward singling him out with the others so near, but she brushed it aside. "Thank you… for getting me in to the Akkik."

"Don't thank me, yet," Gamul snorted with the tug of a slight smile on his lip. "I didn't _get you in_. You did."

* * *

**Happy Thursday (I know I keep saying I'll upload on Friday, but you know you like the surprise!)**

**Thank you to my beta-readers: BlueRiverSteel and SummerAlden. Please lend those gals your support and read their stories! While you're at it, maybe you'll leave a review, eh? ;)**


	6. Ch 6 -- Enchanted Effects

**Gold and Fire - Chapter 6 - Enchanted Effects**

_She fell beneath the wheels to help me up_

_Black sea, I failed to be a light you found in love_

_She fell beneath the wheels to help me up_

_Black sea, the monster killed the melody you loved_

**_Ben Howard "Esmerelda"_**

* * *

**youtube dot com /watch?v=DaH4W1rY9us "Oats in the water" Ben Howard**

— _June— _

Bilbo had never run so much in his life. Thirteen dwarves, the hobbit, and the wizard were running in zig-zag patterns through prairie and boulder with wargs and orcs in pursuit. The wizard, Radagast, had met them in the forest—just before the first of the great hounds appeared.

The strange wizard led the orcs on a weaving chase through the rocks while Gandalf advised the band of dwarves how to venture through the boulders. It was chaotic and full of risk, but they had no other choice.

"Where are you leading us?" Thorin wondered aloud, growling when Gandalf did not give him a reply and Bilbo guessed that Thorin had some inkling of what the answer might be, though Bilbo himself had no idea.

After an exhausting run through pine and rocks, Gandalf guided them down a gathering of stones to reveal a tunnel.

Bilbo was one of the first to slide down, looking up to see Fili standing beside Thorin at the entrance. The Halfling knew the brothers and their uncle well enough by now to understand Fili would not flee to safety while his kin stood in defense of the others, fending off the foes who hoped to overtake them.

"Kili!" Thorin shouted after his nephew.

Bilbo could not see the archer, but he wished Kili could hear the pleading of his mind to retreat.

Thankfully, Kili heard his uncle's call, if not Bilbo's silent one, and the young dwarf slid down with his brother in tow, with Thorin heading down last.

The drone of a horn was heard in the distance and Bilbo glanced at Kili with questioning eyes. Though all would have climbed back up the tunnel opening to see the massacre of the dwarves, they stood in place, listening to the sounds of metal against flesh.

They were startled by the sudden appearance of an orc, whom they expected was coming down to attack them, but it rolled neatly to the ground with an arrow jutting out from its neck. Thorin, bending down to pull the arrow out, examined the arrowhead and grumbled, "Elves."

_Again with the elves_, Bilbo mused. _This is getting ridiculous—_

"I canna' see where the pathway leads." Dwalin called from a curve at the tunnel. "Do we follow it or no?"

"Follow it, of course!" Bofur rolled his eyes.

"I think that would be wise." Gandalf murmured as the company moved closer to the lighted end of the curve.

The path snaked through narrow walls and the dwarven walkers continually bumped into each other as they slid past the rough texture of rock. Dwalin and Bofur finally led them to clean air as the path widened to an opening.

A trickle of water splashed down the receding walls, making the steps below their feet slick as they descended to cliff overlooking the valley.

Bilbo, last of the party to emerge from the narrow path, beheld the sight with a stunned sense awe. _Rivendell!_ His mouth fell open at its grandeur.

Hugging the side of a white and green mountain were rooftops of a similar color, bridges and pathways moving with the roll of the land, and waterfalls sleepily passing under a few of the bridges. The water seemed to be content to lazily crawl downward at its own pace, which gave a sense of ease as Bilbo glanced over the lodges and halls which seemed so comfortably settled.

The scene emanated beauty, but with a laid back and natural effort, as though it had always been there and always would, and as though anyone who entered it would find a safe rest like no other.

Bilbo was apparently the only one who felt at ease, though, as he also took in the mood of the dwarves around him. Some looked unimpressed and the others held something akin to disgust. But none wore the expression which Thorin and Dwalin shared—Bilbo would have liked to compare their reactions of walking into Rivendell with their reactions of walking into a goblin cave.

But no matter how sourly they received this moment, Bilbo held on to his quiet pride in making it this far.

"Rivendell." He breathed. Seeing the waterfalls pour into the river below, with the living green hues of the mountain behind it, and the graceful elegance of the elven dwellings was reward enough for the hobbit.

Kili seemed to be smiling beside Bilbo, and he questioned the look only because he recognized that the rest of the dwarves were uneasy at the thought of meeting any elves on their trip.

"Is something amusing?" Bilbo grinned while they continued walking down the path. He was never quite certain what the dwarf was thinking or what he would do next.

Kili glanced at the hobbit and slowed pace to match his friend's. "No, why?"

"You just seem…" Bilbo's brows drew together. "I don't know. You just look a little more comfortable than the rest of your companions."

At this, the prince grinned wider. "Ah. I do not share in their… prejudice; I guess you could call it. It was the elves of Mirkwood who did our people a disservice and I cannot hold it against these simply because they are of the same race."

Bilbo's eyebrows rose. "That's a wise perspective; I wouldn't have expected that from you."

While a hearty laugh left the mouth of the archer, Bilbo's eyes widened as he realized what he'd implied. "I didn't mean—I'm sorry, that wasn't—I meant it as a compliment—"

"And I took it as one, so don't bother with an apology." Kili said, nudging the hobbit with his elbow.

Bilbo rolled his eyes at himself while continuing to step toward a bridge. "I just wish Thorin shared your thoughts, I can't understand why anyone would loathe them as much as he does."

Kili's grin slowly drooped and he lowered his eyes. "Our races naturally disagree because of the way we see things. The elves seem to demand a certain elegance and luxury to everything they do and say, while we dwarves are more comfortable 'roughing it' and making do with what we have."

Bilbo was just as astounded at this answer as he was with the other one. Kili seemed to be more intelligent than he let on, but why he hid it behind simple remarks and humor was beyond the hobbit.

Fili, who walked behind them, must have sensed Bilbo's reaction and muttered, "He isn't always so sage, but he has his moments."

"And understandably so," Kili chuckled. "I would not want it to be expected of me all the time!"

Bilbo was about two join the two in their laughter, but a part of his mind reasoned that they were distracting him from his original question. "But Thorin…"

Kili's face fell again, almost an acknowledgement that Bilbo was right in guessing they were not answering him directly. "He… has cause for mistrusting them. The elves eventually offered aid to our people when they were suffering, but it was at the expense of something… personal."

With the way the dwarf said it, Bilbo felt it would be inappropriate to press further. His curiosity had begun to burn inside of him, however, as he began to see Thorin's history as a book full of adventure and Bilbo was frustrated in missing one of the stories. He purposed that later he would question Balin, who seemed to be an expert in Thorin's woes, knowing full well that the white-haired dwarf was more likely to divulge the mystery than any of their other companions. He felt a little rude snooping into their leader's affairs, but this adventure was having an effect on his boldness.

* * *

**youtube dot com /watch?v=2fNeK4DJPMo "Diamonds" Ben Howard**

The dwarves had been received into the halls of Rivendell with much warmer enthusiasm than they themselves gave, but talk of food had lifted their spirits. Of course, those spirits were once again dampened at the sight of what the elves considered to be food. Bilbo and Gandalf seemed to be the only two interested in eating from the spread of nuts, greens, berries, and way bread.

Fili was much happier joining Bofur, who made it his mission to scrounge through their supplies and cook something more… _filling_.

Fili stifled a laugh when Dori encouraged Ori to make the best of it and at least _attempt_ to eat some of the leaves.

The dwarves eventually made their way to a room which had been prepared for them and as soon as they were left to themselves, Bofur and Nori lit a fire in the center of the floor—could it really be called a room? Half of it was pillars opening to a view of the starry night!—and cooked links of sausage.

Their company was far from quiet, laughing uproariously when Bombur's great weight had caused the legs of a table to collapse, but Fili was exhausted and determined to find himself a quiet—well, quiet enough!—corner to pull into his bedroll.

Slipping his feet through the opening and sliding the rest of himself further in, he found himself comfortably situated and rested his eyes in contentment.

He should have known, though, that his contentment wouldn't last long.

"Turning in already?" Fili expected that the voice belonged to Kili, but opened his eyes in surprise when he realized it belonged to Bilbo.

"Where did you run off to?"

"The map…" Bilbo cocked his head sideways. "Lord Elrond was able to read it and there were moon runes…I'm sorry. You were resting, I'll just—"

"S'fine." Fili nodded. "Tomorrow, I'll hear about it then."

Bilbo ducked away and Fili closed his eyes again, but he heard the hobbit shuffle to the other corner a few steps away from Fili's feet.

"What did you have on your mind, Master Baggins?" Fili heard Balin say.

While Fili was slightly irritated that everyone seemed to be having their conversations so close to where he was trying to sleep, the question Bilbo asked Balin next brought him back to the waking world.

"Kili mentioned that Thorin had lost something personal when he engaged the help of the elves…"

The blond dwarf made no effort open his eyes, but he kept his ears alert, wondering if the old Balin had an answer more thorough than Fili's own.

"Thorin was engaged to be married, but she died because elves did not act quickly." Balin said, bluntly.

Fili never expected that his mentor would pass that information on so effortlessly, but he also knew that it was difficult for his uncle's companions to know bits and pieces of the account without ever speaking to each other about it. The depths of Thorin's pain on the subject was such that no one dared whisper it around the future King.

"The elves," Balin continued with a sigh, "were unwilling to come to our aid in battle against the dragon. However, they did offer meager assistance in other needs."

"What needs?" Bilbo asked.

Balin hesitated for a moment before continuing, "Our people were dispersed. Thorin did his best to keep as many of them together as he could, but there were so many… it was easy for stragglers to become…" Balin groaned in a tortured breath. "…enslaved."

Fili exhaled a small sigh through his nose, still keeping his eyes closed. He wasn't sure if they knew he was eavesdropping, but it was the price they paid in having such a secretive conversation so close to his sleeping place.

"Some of our kin were captured and we did what we could to rescue them, to free them…" Balin's voice hitched. "And Thorin's beloved was among them."

"Oh…" Bilbo was obviously dumbstruck.

Fili knew the rest and he wasn't sure if Balin would tell the hobbit, but Bilbo asked, "What happened to her?"

Fili heard Balin growl and his voice bore the weight of anger and disgust. "Dwarven women are considered desirable in the slave trade because they are such an oddity." Balin lingered on the last word. "A lass's beard, in our culture, is an honored mark of beauty. Ru—Thorin's intended," Balin stopped himself from saying her name, "had a stunning red beard. Almost as long as mine."

Fili could hear the pride in the dwarf's recollection.

"When Thorin found her, they had shaved it off. And none too gently," Balin spat in bitterness.

"How do the elves come into all of it?" Bilbo said, and Fili could hear the quiver in the hobbit's voice.

Though it frustrated him to no end, Fili was uncomfortable and felt he could no longer hold back his need to roll over to his side. With as slow a movement as he could manage, he shifted to lay on his ribs, hoping that it wouldn't startle the two speakers at his feet. Fortunately, they didn't notice.

"There were jewels in Erebor which had been stolen from the elves—gems we fully intended to return to them, and the elves offered us aid in exchange for them."

"That sounds reasonable." Bilbo snorted.

"Ah, but laddie, you forget," Balin said, "those gems were deep in the heart of a mountain that was suddenly possessed by a dragon. How were we to retrieve them? It was a dishonorable barter. Thranduil knew where the enslaved were, but he gave Thorin a choice: the Elven king would give the wandering dwarves food and medicine or he would give Thorin the location of those captured by slavers. He would only make good on both if Thorin promised to venture into the mountain to return their lost jewels."

"Are you telling me," Bilbo sputtered, "that Thorin chose to feed his people over finding…what was her name?"

Fili's heart fell when the hobbit asked the question, and he sensed, even from where he lay, Balin's pause. He heard the squeak of leather and assumed that Balin had leaned in close to Bilbo.

"Runa." He whispered.

Silence fell throughout the room and now Fili opened his eyes.

Everyone had frozen where they were and turned their attention to where Balin and Bilbo were speaking.

The crackle of fire was the only sound— surprise in hearing Balin utter her name was so thick that it almost choked Fili where he lay. With wide eyes, he searched for his uncle, his sight roaming through the room and eventually resting on the grimacing face of Thorin.

Unconsciously, everyone turned to look at their leader, expecting him to say something, but the dwarf only stood and turned, leaving the room with thudding boots and making his way down a hall.

Fili clamped his eyes shut again, laying his arm over his face and praying thanks to Mahal that he'd found Nur after her encounter with Gren. From what he'd gathered, Gren had plenty of time to steal the virtue of Fili's beloved, but was stopped from acting on it when his brother and Dul had saved her. He couldn't comprehend the despair Thorin must have endured on finding his loved one stripped of her honor, further than just the shaving of her elegant beard.

Reaching into his jacket, which he had not even bothered to remove, Fili closed a few fingers around Nur's letter. The paper served as his reminder that Nur was safe and would remain that way until he came back for her. The comfort of it was immediate and sent him into sleep and dreams.

* * *

**youtube dot com /watch?v=UYUKsRL-YBM "Esmerelda" Ben Howard**

Thorin had known Balin was speaking to Bilbo about his hatred toward the elves. He even knew Balin was telling the hobbit the tragedy of his beloved. But he didn't expect that Balin would say her name…

That name was the key to the doors of the thick, strong wall of composure Thorin attempted to display at all times. And when Balin had whispered it in a hushed voice, the name was something sacred and full of magic, so it did not surprise Thorin when he'd overheard it even from the distance.

He stood, knowing all eyes were on him, and walked out of the room as smoothly as he could.

But once he was out of earshot, out of sight of the others, he steadied himself against the wall of the hallway, hand flying to his face as though it would stop the tears from leaving his eyes.

Could Thorin say her name as easily as his friend had spoken it? Had it been long enough that he could dare to do so? Part of him said that no amount of time would ever heal that wound.

His heavy footfalls led him down a set of stairs, down a stone path and into another path of dirt. He hardly knew where it was he was going; he only knew that he had to find somewhere away from the others. His hands reached out from the exertion of running so fast and found the trunk of a tree.

Looking up, Thorin found himself a good distance from the elven halls, standing in the darkness amidst the trees of a forest.

If ever there were a moment in which he could test his ability to say her name, it was here.

"Runa," He whispered reverently. But along with his voice came the memory—the picture of her battered and bruised form in his arms. Her fiery red hair, untamed in its curls, falling over the black and blue marks that covered her neck and shoulders. The puffy bags under her eyes, dimmed from their beautiful, lively green to a languid color like foam.

Thorin cried out in agony, hands over his face and fighting for control over the floodgates that had been opened, falling to his knees in misery.

He would never again hear her musical laugh—her joyous demeanor had been stripped from her.

He would never again kiss those plump, full lips—they were cut from punishment over her brash spirit.

He would never again stroke the soft skin of her cheeks or run his fingers through her luscious beard—her "masters" had made the mistake of trying to shave her while she still had breath enough to fight them and their sloppy work was evidence with the knicks and rashes that covered her chin and jawline.

"Runa," He said it again, hoping it might calm him.

_My love…_

Thorin whirled, looking around, certain that someone had spoken to him.

"Is someone there?"

_I am always here_, The voice soothed, as if comforting him.

"Show yourself." Thorin commanded in a low voice.

_I am far away._ It said with sorrow. _I cannot come to you. But you can come to me._

Thorin once again took his head in his hands. "I am losing my mind."

_No_, it said, _you are finally opening it. Come to me, Thorin. Come to me at the Lonely Mountain and I will make you feel whole again._

Grimacing, Thorin stood and looked around once more. He was completely alone…

_You will never be alone again_, the voice crooned. _Come to me, soon. We will be together and I will wash away your misery._

* * *

**youtube dot com /watch?v=B2UM-Y8P8RM "Opening" Linkin Park (Reanimation)**

_"What will happen if your plan should fail?" Elrond asked with concern. "If you wake the beast—"_

_"What if we succeed?" Gandalf countered. "If the dwarves take back the mountain, our defenses in the east will be strengthened."_

_"It is a dangerous move, Gandalf." The elf lord reminded him._

_"It is also dangerous to do nothing! It's Thorin's birthright." But Gandalf paused a moment. "What is it you fear?"_

_"Have you forgotten?" There was a weariness that came with recognizing harsh realities in Lord Elrond's voice. "A strain of madness runs deep in that family. His grandfather lost his mind, his father succumbed to the same sickness. Can you swear Thorin Oakenshield will not also fall?"_

"_We cannot really know more of that sickness tied to the gold," The old wizard replied. "Until we have come closer to the Lonely Mountain. That spell will grow in strength as we draw nearer to it and I hope to stem it and guide Thorin away from it. But I have no way of understanding when he has __**begun**__ to succumb to it. Him or his heirs…"_

"_It is likely you may see it soon," said the elf, and switching to his native tongue, he added, "Rivendell houses many different magics…"_

* * *

**youtube dot com /watch?v=qu7TJmvFDPo "Frgt/10" Linkin Park (instrumental)**

Perhaps Mahal's sense of humor could not be fathomed, but Nur was sure she had been put into this situation for the purpose of entertaining someone.

The Akkik cadets had been divided into teams and were set against each other in an almost child-like game of "orcs" versus "warriors".

The lass who had been so hesitant to give her name—though eventually Nur learned her name to be Kurn—had grumbled that she had come to learn the art of war, not play games, but had perked up when the instructors had assigned her as one of the "orcs".

Moving through the boulders and rocks at the topmost part of the Iron Hills, Nur gripped her sword and shield tightly, eyes and ears alert for the members of the other team.

The trainers had treated the cadets with nothing but scorn and condescension, pointedly offering Nur more rather than less of their harsh words—it came as no surprise to her when they continued their practice even in the game: She was grateful to be paired with Dul, even if the instructors had taken note of Kurn's disgust with the princess and assigned her to the enemy team on purpose.

What Kurn's past was, Nur would never know, but it must have been full of loathing and abuse if the lass's behavior was any indicator. It was evident that the two mistrusted each other, but Kurn rose above and beyond casual scorn. Likely, she was looking forward to catching Nur off guard and offering her a beating.

Nur was so focused on the boulders and high rocks of the hilly ground that she didn't bother looking up at the rocks beside her and couldn't have seen the crouching body of the lass with the black mustache.

A boot collided with Nur's head before she knew what was happening, but training and instinct stopped her from dropping to the stony ground—she lashed out with her shield while attempting to regain her footing.

Kurn said nothing, but swung her mace out at the princess again with a ferocious expression.

As much as she knew Kurn was not one to taunt or to one given to monologue, Nur wished the dark dwarf would say something! She deflected a blow from the mace with her shield, attempting to push her adversary back with the force of it, but Kurn was waiting for this and struck Nur from behind as she passed by.

All of Nur's force was concentrated on defensive strategy and she knew it wouldn't win her the battle. The Akkik trainers had made it very clear that they were not responsible for any injuries in the game, which had only one rule: no deaths.

From the strikes of the mace, Nur understood that perhaps Kurn found _that_ rule to be negotiable.

"Kurn, stop!" Nur shouted. "You've won! I've no wish to hurt you!"

And still, Kurn said nothing, only venting her power with more strength, the blows coming on harsher.

Nur was rapidly running out of energy and out of hope, but she resorted to the one thing she had no desire for. She struck back.

Sword in hand, she swung the blade nearer and nearer to Kurn's shoulder, hoping to convince the lass that she would not cower before her. It was true that she felt fear, but the Akkik trained their students well, teaching them to manage fear and to draw strength from it instead.

"I will see you yield!" Kurn glowered at the princess, driving her mace toward the shield and then blocking Nur's sword as it descended heavily.

"If I refuse to yield to orcs, I refuse to yield to you!" Nur countered, lunging her sword arm forward.

The move was swift enough that Nur knew it would make contact with Kurn, but Kurn's speed and agility caused her to be uncertain where the blade would meet her—and that's when they both heard it.

The sound of hair gliding against metal.

Nur drew her sword back quickly, eyes wide as a strand of black hair fell from Kurn's face. Kurn stood perfectly still and held an angrily quivering hand up to her cheek, feeling for—and not finding—the left half of her long mustache.

"You fowl _urg_," Kurn spat. Her dark eyes were incensed as she reached behind her and unsheathed a previously unseen dagger. Mace in one hand and dagger in the other, she shouted, "Now I really will kill you!"

With a shrill shriek and upraised arms, Kurn attacked Nur with a force the princess realized she had been holding back. It wasn't until Dul joined them that Nur felt she had a chance of walking away from the encounter unscathed.

"That's enough, Kurn!" The muscled Dul scolded, warhammer poised in defense.

What happened next was difficult for Nur to recall as the events unfolded at such an unrealistic speeds—some slowly and some quicker than should have been possible.

All Nur really knew was that Kurn feigned a drop with her mace and in the same swift movement struck Dul in the jaw hard enough for the warrior to veer backward against a boulder. The dagger gleamed in Kurn's other hand and she made no effort to use it against Dul, but it reminded Nur too much of the dagger Gren had kept on his person.

And that was when the shock took over. No amount of training had really prepared her to deal with her symptoms during battle, but Nur had hoped she could at least focus some of their techniques on her fear. She was wrong.

The center of her vision was acutely clear and directed while the edges were blurry and rolling like waves.

She could hear Kurn's grip tighten on the leather handle of the mace, the sound that a bead of sweat made in falling from her forehead to her chin, the scratching of their boots against rock, all amplified and all terrifyingly loud.

And if she had been able to form a thought in those moments, her hands would not have responded to any demands her mind made. Billows of air seemed to travel through her veins, a determined flow of blood halting and rushing in chaotic intervals, seizing up her fingers and elbows so that they shot straight out.

Nur could not remember to breathe, could not think, could not see except for the pinpoints at the center of her vision, and had given up on her sense of hearing.

All because her mind had convinced her that Kurn was now Gren.

Vaguely aware that she had been struck on the side of her head, Nur's vision began to even out with her breathing, and she awoke to the understanding that she was being pounded repeatedly with Kurn's weapon.

In that moment, she was grateful for the impact of the mace—it had suppressed Nur's panic attack. After all, as morbid as it sounded, Nur would rather be injured than lose her mind. And this was her last thought before she fell into darkness.

* * *

_Urg= Khazdul for "runt"_

**Happy Thursday! I'm just going to keep saying that my chapter uploads will happen each Friday even though we all know they end up being Thursday (what can I say? I like the security of one more day...) **

**I have a deviantart page (type in Cassandrasade) with fan art for these stories. I just finished one of a redhead which could be Runa ( dot com /art/Facial-studies-1-478737664 since fan fic won't let us post links, you know that the "dot com" is .com)**

**I also have a bit of a backstory for Thorin and Runa, but I don't want to bother with it unless there are more than a few people who would like to read it (leave me a review and let me know if you'd be interested in that)**

**A big, big, big thank you to BlueRiverSteel and SummerAlden, who are my faithful and patient beta readers and make my life so much easier!**


	7. Ch 7 -- Dreams

**Gold and Fire - Chapter 7 - Dreams**

**youtube dot com /watch?v=Socs8uiNldo "Floating/Sinking" Peter Broderick**

All was darkness. But all remnants of pain succumbed to the darkness as well, sending Nur into a numbness that was neither relieving nor frightening. She just… existed.

But then certain colors began to come into view and she was startled to note that she was in a greenwood, birds chirping from the trees. And sitting on a white, marble bench was Fili.

Best friend. Lover. Husband. Prince. The smell of leather. Hair the color of summer prairie grass and skin that was always warm. Her cold hands ached to feel that warm skin again, but this was a dream, wasn't it? Her feet carried her closer.

This wasn't real.

His head turned. "Nur?"

This wasn't real.

But her feet didn't stop until she stood before him. "Fili?"

This wasn't…

He didn't seem to think it was real either, because he stayed sitting on the bench and beckoned for her to join him, instead of leaping up and holding her like she knew he would if this _was_ real.

She sat in slow, fluidic movements while the wispy, white gown she wore fluttered in the warm wind.

Nur decided not to fight against logic. That sort of thing didn't matter in dreams anyway, did it? Leaning her head against the crook of Fili's neck, Nur touched her forehead to his pulse and inhaled the scent that was so hauntingly real. If this was a dream, it had gotten the details right.

"How did everything get so… strange?" She asked him while a few strands of her blonde hair waved in the warm breeze blowing past them. Fili caught up those strands in his fingers, brushing through them and sending soft tingles of pleasure to their roots on her scalp.

It was a vague question, but she knew he understood it because he answered with, "Because we were ready to grow up."

Both of them had reached adulthood, but only freshly.

"I didn't know it would be like this." She murmured, kissing the soft skin at his neck and then pulling away to look at him. "I didn't know it would be so hard."

He huffed a small laugh, smiling with glistening blue eyes that seemed all the more blue in the surreal sunlight that surrounded them. "Somehow I think we have it harder than we were supposed to."

Holding her hands in one of his, he stroked the skin on her wrist with the other, his warm fingers causing blissful sensations through her arm. "Like Thorin."

Nur glanced at their hands and thought on this. Thorin's life had been near-perfect before the dragon and he had nothing but happiness to look forward to, but fate had changed all of it in a matter of hours.

She thought on the horrors Thorin must have witnessed, the sudden responsibility hoisted on his shoulders, and the hard life he'd had to endure after all was said and done. Even if he retook Erebor that day, it would be many more years until it was restored to the glory he'd seen it thriving in before the dragon.

Fili's fate on his quest was just as uncertain as hers was in her father's army, but she said nothing of this, fearing to tell him of her training even in a dream.

"I hope that it does not change _you_." She said softly, lifting her head and peering into the blue eyes she missed so much. She scoured his face, finding every feature the same as it had been in the waking world. "I would see you smile for many years to come, not burdened with the darkness of the world."

Fili smiled a full smile, a face unconcerned with worry and with crinkles wrinkling the corner of his eyes as he stared into her face with complete admiration.

He was positively glowing. "I have my Nur to keep me from it. Thorin… lost his."

As she recalled the story, Nur's face fell. She wondered what Thorin would be like today if his beloved had survived… but Fili's knuckles under her chin brought it back up, bringing her back into the happy moment with her own beloved.

Fili's face was hard to concentrate on because the light surrounding them kept increasing. "You're very bright," she finally said, "I can hardly look at you."

It seemed he was having the same problem, squinting at her and raising a hand in front of his eyes. He grumbled in frustration, whispering, "Then close your eyes."

Nur obeyed and felt his forceful mouth against hers, sinking into that wonderful familiarity of his lips and sighing contentedly. She felt his hands reaching around her back and traveling down to her waist, pulling at her so that she sat closer to him.

While Nur reached out to steady herself, her hand settled on his thigh and she felt a hunger awaken that she'd suppressed for many long months. And, as dreams have a way of doing, she was reminded that she was alone with her husband in these glorious woods and that she need show no restraint here.

* * *

**Yay for bonus chapters!**

**I have a sketch for this chapter on my deviantart page - dot com /art/Forest-Dream-478713546**

**Thank you BlueRiverSteel and Summer Alden for being my fantabulous beta readers**

**See ya'll next Friday!**


	8. Ch 8 -- Waking

**Gold and Fire – Chapter 8 – Waking**

_Take me beyond this land undone _

_over the flood by your word, spirit, and blood_

_it was prophesied long ago, every word set in stone_

_not one will fall away_

**_Josh Garrels "Words Remain"_**

* * *

**youtube dot com /watch?v=l9moGsbl-g "We enjoyed life together" Peter Broderick**

_-June-_

Thorin woke to the sound of a sweet voice calling his name.

_Thorin._

The dwarf's eyes shot open and he looked around, knowing full well that none of his companions could have called to him—they were strewn about the room and huddled together, sleeping soundly. Some more soundly than others, he noted while watching his eldest nephew stir in his sleep.

The lad looked to be struggling with something and Thorin recalled with fondness the nights when Fili had been a much younger dwarf, wrestling with bad dreams and rushing to find his uncle to fend off the nightmares.

_Thorin,_ the voice called to him again.

Having previously fallen asleep where he sat "on guard" with Dwalin, he rose now to glance at the color of the sky. It had only been a few hours since he'd returned from his meeting with the elven Lord Elrond, but he knew that his company must soon leave if they were to avoid being detained—and ultimately cut off—from their mission.

_The mountain_, the voice sang out, _come quickly, my love!_

Thorin had no inkling of whom the voice could belong to, but it was familiar and seductive. There was only one person that voice could belong to, he mused, and she was long dead…

* * *

**Youtube dot com /watch?v=xSB74LZDNr0 "Mykonos" Fleet Foxes**

Fili woke to the sound of Bofur's voice.

"What?" He rubbed a hand over his groggy face.

"It's time to go." The miner repeated in a low whisper.

The light of dawn had yet to fall on the marble pillars of the room, but from where Fili lay he could tell that the deep purple of night was weakening. He shuffled out of his covers and nudged Kili's shoulder with his knuckle. The lad groaned, but didn't move.

He decided to give his brother a moment or two before Fili motivated Kili with the toe of his boot, rolling up his sleeping mat and tying it with thin rope. His fingers fumbled as he tried to make a knot, sleep still heavy on his mind though his body was active. He had always been like that—then again, he'd always been on the move, and a well-learned lesson of the road was to get your limbs working even before your brain woke up.

He found that his boot was not necessary in helping his brother to wake as Bofur came near to nudge at the archer, whispering that they were departing Rivendell. Grumbling and sitting up, Kili rubbed his face and turned to his brother.

"Were you dreaming last night?" Kili murmured with a yawn.

The question would have startled Fili, but he wasn't yet coherent enough to ask why, only letting out a low, "Hrm?" before pulling Kili's blanket off of him and packing up his brother's belongings.

"You were loud." Kili groused, snatching his things away from Fili's hands with an expression that said: _I can pack all by myself, thank you very much_.

A wave of embarrassment washed through Fili's midsection as he recalled the vivid details of his imagination the night before, hoping and praying that he hadn't murmured anything too awkward in his sleep.

"Did I say anything?" He inquired in a whisper, gathering up his pack and reaching out a hand to help his brother to his feet.

"You were calling for your wife." Bofur said from behind them, nudging Fili in the ribs with his elbow.

The blonde dwarf rolled his eyes and sighed. "I guess that was bound to happen sooner or later."

This earned a chortle from his younger brother and then an expectant expression when the lad crossed his arms in front of his chest.

"What?" Fili groaned at him.

"I'm wondering when you're going to thank me for keeping quiet this long year. Surely, you know it took a great effort."

"Aye," Fili grinned. "But don't give yourself too much credit, it hasn't been a full year."

* * *

**Youtube dot com /watch?v=Qb1GSnyFEqk "Words remain (Live in NYC)" Josh Garrels**

Nur woke to the sound of drums. At least,it sounded like drums, though the thrumming sound was keeping rhythm with her blood. It dawned on her that it might be her heartbeat.

She opened her eyes to stare at an unfamiliar ceiling.

_I'm inside, how did I get inside? I was tracking Kurn and… oh. _

Kurn. Ruthless Kurn. Unforgiving Kurn, whom Nur had cut half a mustache from. Despicable Kurn, whom Dul had tried to protect her from. Dul! Where was Dul?

Nur did not try to sit up, her head felt heavy and she was sure it was bandaged from whatever blows she had received from Kurn's mace.

Turning her head slowly to the side, she met the large, blue eyes of a medic.

"Hello." The lass smiled. Her light blonde hair fell into her face, which was dashed with freckles. And those eyes—they were almost a teal color and very large. Nur also noticed that her downy blonde beard had been recently trimmed, keeping it extremely short and close to her face.

The stubble said something about her character, that she was willing to set aside what dwarves considered beautiful for practicality. There were many medics who practiced the same and it was looked down upon by other classes and other professions, but that only made it more evident when a medic truly cared about their occupation.

And it instantly made Nur feel more comfortable with the lass.

"How's your head feeling?" The medic asked while she pulled back some of the bandages from Nur's skull.

"Mm," Nur's throat was dry and she began to wonder how long she had been asleep. Though the dreams had been pleasant—and pleasant was a dreary word in comparison to the absolute bliss she had been enjoying—she was concerned with missing instruction, which Gamul had warned against in the beginning of their training. "Throbbing. What's happened? How long have I been here?" And before the medic could answer, she added, "And where's Dul?"

The lass grinned widely, amused by the many questions. She sat on the bed opposite of Nur and crossed her arms, a warm smile still playing on her face. "You probably have more questions than that, but in what order am I supposed to answer them?"

"Cheeky for a healer." Nur muttered with a frown.

The comment did not diminish the lass's smile. "And you're injured, so I'll let you vent at me all you like, but I'd rather not give you information when I'm not sure how awake you are. Wouldn't want to have to repeat myself later."

"Mahal," Nur rolled her head to stare at the ceiling again. "I'm awake, I promise."

"If you're awake, then there's nothing stopping you from drinking up this medicine." The healer said, holding up a cup of something muddy. "And a cup of water to wash it down."

Nur could loosely recall now that she'd refused something earlier, though she wasn't certain if it had been a dream or not.

"The last healer to come in here and offer it to you walked out with a black eye." The lass laughed a little. "The poor lad took it personally, but I assured him that battle medics have to deal with much worse."

Nur turned her head to face the lass. "I hurt someone? How is he—?"

"He's fine, lass," The healer said with a chortle, setting the cup down on a table beside the bed and crossing her arms again. "But that's why I asked if you were awake."

It was a surprising effect, Nur considered, that this healer was having on her, as though they had known each other for years.

"If you can reach over to this table by yourself and drink up this tonic then I'll answer whatever you'd like."

At first Nur was offended that the healer thought this was a challenge, but in reaching out her hand she realized her circulation was off. Her hand fell limply for a moment before she could grip the cup with a pathetic amount of strength. But Nur refused to let the medic see just how much she struggled to keep it from tipping as she raised it to her lips and downed its contents as quickly as she could.

Clapping the cup back down on the table, Nur grimaced at the aftertaste, smacking her lips together and uttering for water.

Now the medic came to her aid and placed a hand behind Nur's head, lifting it a little while her other hand tipped the water to Nur's lips.

"Thank you." Nur croaked with a sigh of relief.

The medic chuckled again, returning to her seat on the bed across from Nur and waiting patiently with her hands in her lap. "Aye. Now, what's on your mind?"

Nur turned her whole body to its side, facing the medic. "Your name, to begin with."

"Merag." The healer answered. Nur breathed a small laugh. The lass had been rightly named, as Merag meant _one who makes friends_. "And you are Princess Nur."

Nur nodded. "Where's my friend? Where's Dul?"

"Ah," Merag said and Nur couldn't believe how much wider the lass's smile could get. "That one. He's well enough, though he's been worried sick about you. It's sweet." Her eyes narrowed at Nur. "Is he spoken for?"

"Er, not that I know of…"

"Better and better," said Merag with a gleam in her eye and Nur was astounded by how forward the medic sounded, though pleased that Dul had caught someone's eye. That dwarf had been through enough hardship to make him appear terrible and haggard to anyone, but at least he still had something left that attracted this lass. "And you're married to Prince Fili." Merag added.

Nur's heart almost stopped. "Um… yes." She answered shakily. "Have I been talking in my sleep?"

"Yes," Merag said matter-of-factly, leaning back with her hands behind her. "You look as though you think that's a problem."

"It's a bit… complicated." The Princess groaned. "I'd appreciate it if you didn't mention Prince Fili to anyone."

"Lass, I've no idea why you'd think your marriage isn't already public knowledge." Merag said with a twinge of sympathy in her eyes.

With hands covering her face, Nur grimaced. "Then my father knows…" She jumped a little when she felt Merag's hands gently pulling her hands away from her face.

"I don't know what's going on and you don't need to tell me." The medic soothed with a warm tone. "But I do know that military training, let alone the Akkik, keeps you from having contact with the outside world, keeps you from having news of things. If there's anything I can do to help, let me know." There was a hint of mischief in the medic's voice and eyes.

"Now, if you feel up to having visitors, there's a grousing dwarf in the next room who'd like to make sure I'm not lying to him when I promise him you're still alive." Merag laughed. Nur nodded enthusiastically though the action made her head throb mildly. Whatever tonic Merag had given her had done its work immediately, dulling the pain of her head and clearing away any dizziness.

"I'll fetch him," Merag stood and patted Nur's shoulder. "You just work on trying to sit up."

"I thought you'd advise me not to." Nur said with wide eyes.

"Oh, lass," The medic quirked an eyebrow at the Princess. "We both know you'd try even if I told you not to. If I give you permission then at least you'll be doing it without any guilt. And if you fall," she added with her hand on the door of the small room, "then you'll be wary enough not to try again until you're certain you can do it. I might be a healer, but the healing of your body is really your job, not mine."

Nur watched the door close behind the dwarf and decided she could trust the cocky lass named Merag.

* * *

**Youtube dot com /watch?v=GNingUpFoK0 "Birds and stars" Elephant Revival**

Dul woke to the sound of an opening door. His eyes shot open and he cursed himself for drowsing on the bed where he sat. Legs stretched out on the bed, he'd crossed his arms and leaned against the wall, waiting for the healer to return and give him news of the Princess.

"Well, then," Dul met the blue eyes of the medic who entered. "Am I to be locked in this cell for much longer?"

"A cell?" Merag grinned. "That's hardly what I would call it."

_Do you ever stop smiling?_ He wondered.

"I don't care what you call it; I'm confined against my will. It could be padded with red silks and I'd still call it a cell." He groused while she lifted up his injured leg.

Healer Merag sat down on the bed beside Dul and set his foot down in her lap, unravelling the winding cloth around his ankle and stealing a peek at his frown. Dul was startled by the comfortable approach she took with him, the lack of cold and clinical behavior that most healers had.

"This is a lot more comfort than you're usually allowed in the Akkik, but they make certain amendments for royalty. And friends of royalty."

"That's a load of rubbish, and you know it, lass." He cocked his head sideways at her, twitching his long mustache. "I don't deserve an ounce of good treatment and who I know doesn't change that." There was something about this lass that made him certain she had called in a few favors to give him the luxury of such a plush bed and large space.

Whatever it was, he didn't want to encourage it. He'd had enough of ruining lives and was still making up for his past actions by serving Nur as faithfully as he did. He didn't care if it was a life-sentence; Dul knew he had much to atone for.

Merag's hands swept the bandage completely off of Dul's foot, gently handling it and turning the ankle to examine it. "I don't think you're undeserving. I think you're brave. And loyal, to boot. I've never seen someone so devoted to his friend without being romantically interested in her."

Dul's eyebrows pulled together and he narrowed his gaze at the medic.

"I'm aware she's married," Merag added hastily, causing a nervous prickle in Dul's brain. "I'm just impressed, that's all. Does it hurt when I do this?" Merag braced her hands around the injured ankle and bent it ever so slightly.

"No," He answered, but he wasn't sure if she saw him wince. He wanted to get back on his feet. Now. "How do you know about her marriage?"

"It's common knowledge." Merag said, her smile dying down a bit. "Why did the Princess want to keep it a secret?"

"It's complicated." Dul said with a growl and almost didn't catch the grin that re-appeared on her face when he unknowingly repeated Nur's words. The growl was mostly due to the discomfort of his foot as the medic moved it around to test its limits.

"Well, you can both be complicated together in a few moments. She's awake and asking for you."

Dul nearly leapt to his feet at the words, but satisfied himself with putting his hands down on either side of the bed, waiting patiently for the healer to be done with re-wrapping his foot.

"What have you done that makes you so undeserving, I wonder?" Merag commented while she finished the wrapping.

"She wouldn't want me to talk about it." Dul answered curtly, but then softened his voice. "I've much to pay for. The Princess might not have been forced into the Akkik if it weren't for me."

"No one is forced into the Akkik," The healer said, picking up his foot and placing it back onto the bed as he rose. "But I'll let you keep your secrets for a while longer. How do you feel about trying to walk?"

"I'm chomping at the bit, lassie." Dul grumbled as he rose shakily to his feet. He'd sustained more than just a foot injury—his own head-wounds throbbing and a gouge to his arm—but he was determined to see Nur on the mend.

Ducking her thin frame under his arm, Merag pulled it over her shoulder and let the muscled dwarf lean on her for support while she led him to Nur's room.

"Princess Nur." He smiled while they passed through the doorway and was led to the bed beside Nur.

"Lord Dul." Nur answered with a wide smile as she sat up.

"You're not as near to death as I first believed." He exhaled, watching the medic leave the room, the door closing behind Merag as she gave the two a moment alone. His eyes lingered on the door a moment.

"She likes you." Nur said with a lopsided grin, and her comment brought him back to focusing on her.

"Then she's daft." Dul mumbled.

"She's made a trustworthy impression on me," Nur countered his comment, "And I'm going to ask for her help."

"With what?" Dul lowered himself with a grunt to a bed, elbows on his knees and hands clasped together.

"She said she knew I was married. Do you think my father… he must know, if everyone else does. I haven't heard anything from him, but…"

"You think he won't lend Thorin his troops?" Dul guessed at her thoughts while she answered him with a shaky nod. "Lass, you look like you're about to fall over—we can still talk if you're lying down."

Nur looked appreciative of the sentiment and lowered herself slowly back down to her pillow, eyes still locked onto Dul. "Would he still honor his promise?"

"You know better than I."

"But I'm his daughter, I don't see the political side of him as well as you do."

Dul sighed. "It's no good asking me. See what you can learn from Merag. But in the time between now and then, we need to mend as quickly as we can; get back to the Akkik as soon as we can."

* * *

**So I guess I got tired of fighting fan fic with their silly page break problems and decided to put musical prompts in to show where the page breaks are instead. I guess it works—you get a peek at my hipster music selection :P **

**Special thanks to my wonderful editors BlueRiverSteel and SummerAlden! These ladies make me so happy!**

**And if my chapters make you happy, maybe you'll return the favor and leave me a review (I know, it's so awkward to try and think of what to say, but it's more so that I have proof that you were actually here and didn't hate what I wrote—so seriously, just leave a review that says, "Good." And leave it at that, eh?)**

**By the way, yes, I am totally insane and started dabbling in the fan fiction for Thorin and Runa. If you feel like reading it, check out Jewels and Daggers or put this link into your browser (without the spaces- fan fiction .net doesn't like links): fanfiction s/10670728/1/Jewels-and-Daggers**


	9. Ch 9 -- Battling Fear

**Gold and Fire – Chapter 9 – Battling Fear**

_I've tried to stand my ground, I've tried to understand_

_But I can't seem to find my faith again_

_Like water on the sand or grasping at the wind, I keep falling short_

_Please be my strength, I don't have anymore_

_Gungor "Please Be My Strength"_

* * *

**youtube dot com /watch?v=v6KtsaQU0LU "Now go" Erato**

Nur tolerated another week in the infirmary before coming close to losing her temper. Dul's temper, however, surfaced after only a few days—but it only served to show the depths of healer Merag's unending patience and optimism.

They had learned of Oda's dismissal from the Akkik training—she had been gravely injured after coming to the aid of Dul and Nur even though she was supposed to be on the same team as Kurn—and of Kurn's mild probation when the instructors heard of the damage she'd inflicted in the "game".

Nur's fury rose on hearing that faithful Oda had been so seriously hurt, but she was relieved that the soldier lass would no longer have to undergo the brutal teaching the Akkik necessitated. They'd been starved to teach them endurance, punished physically for missteps, and gone through shifts of weapons training that lasted hours longer than any of them had done in military training. But this was the elite—these were the officers and choice warriors.

Oda's dismissal and Kurn's probation had been enough to trouble Nur, but then she was faced with the knowledge of her father's refusal to help Thorin, having asked healer Merag and receiving a clear answer. King Dain made his politics known among his people, believing that public announcements and candor kept away dissention from within.

And with nothing to do on the cot in the healing quarters, Nur's mind raced with plans and counterplans, guilt and anger, bitterness and fear.

There were only two things fighting against Nur's doubt and dread: Dul and Merag.

Merag was cheerful, but not overly so; comforting, but realistic. It was she who kept Nur's demons at bay when the Princess fought against night terrors, she who answered Nur's unspoken questions, she who distracted when it was needed.

Both of the lasses hearts were heavy when Dul had recovered enough to be released back to the tutelage of Gamul in the Akkik.

* * *

**youtube dot com /watch?v=VK4TeN2hq6I "Another Glacier" Peter Broderick**

_-August-_

Fili had thought his time on middle-earth was up when they'd traversed the rock battle waged in the hills sometime after their departure from Rivendell. He remembered vividly the expression on his brother's face when they had been separated by the moving cliff face and the terror that clutched his heart like a clawed hand.

Then Fili had thought their chance survival in the rock battle had been for nothing when they were captured by goblins and the Goblin King threatened to torture the company's youngest member, Ori.

Fili wasn't completely sure how they'd escaped, only that it led to another predicament involving the near-death of his uncle. He was certain upon watching the warg's teeth clench around Thorin's chest, the crunching and squeaking sound of armor being crushed, that he had failed his uncle and was witnessing the dwarf's death.

The unlikely rescue from the eagles had surprised him, along with the shock of being hoisted into the air and made to fly to greater heights than any living being should traverse—and he was grateful that his brother's arms were clasped around his chest. He knew Kili was just as afraid as he was, but he was relieved by the support Kili was unconsciously giving him, as though the clutch of his brother's arms was keeping Fili whole and stopping the madness from ripping him apart.

It wasn't until the safety of Beorn's house that Fili felt himself start to break, the past few days coming at him all at once with the rush of thoughts and emotions he'd been trying to keep at bay. The dwarves had rushed into the strange house Gandalf led them to— but only after being chased by an enormous and terrifying beast— and encouraged to rest in the safety of the dwelling by the wizard.

Fili felt his hands trembling and glanced around him at the others in small panic. He knew he was about to fall apart, he just wanted to keep his dignity intact and have the others leave him be.

The straw-covered floor was inviting to the weary travelers and most of them dropped where they were in exhaustion, but a few stood and spoke to each other.

That tremble in his hands again. His head was aching. He must find somewhere apart from the others. And he must find it now.

The house was open and had no separation of rooms, but he was determined and strode quickly to what he presumed was a back door. Forget the beast outside, he would be swallowed up by the build-up of reactions he'd pushed to the back of his mind—it might be a relief to be eaten alive by the creature instead!

The door revealed a pantry, thick with shelves and supplies and lacking light except for what the fading sun provided from the main room.

It was sufficient for his needs.

Crumpling to the floor and taking his hands in his face, Fili's eyes filled with silent tears.

He'd almost lost his brother, almost died himself—He'd almost been tortured at the hands of goblins, almost been forced to watched his friends die—He'd been dangled from a tree over a perilous cliff, watching helpless and useless as Thorin was brutally attacked and subdued—He'd been perched on the back of a bird, riding unnaturally through the clouds when his feet were only accustomed to having solid land beneath them—and then being chased again…

Why was he so weak? Why couldn't he be strong like his Uncle? Thorin had been nearly killed so many times in the last few days—the near-fall from the cliff-face after rescuing the hobbit, the goblins in the caves, Azog and the warg, the flight with the eagles, and then a great bear—and his uncle wasn't reacting the way Fili was.

Was Fili a coward? The tears streaming down his face convinced him that he was. Was it so wrong for him to acknowledge that he had seen so little of the world to be shocked by what they had been through already?

And waiting for them at the end of whatever struggle it took to get to the mountain was a dragon. A dragon! How could he face Smaug if he could not hold himself together here? How could he face his wife and still earn her respect if he—

Fili felt the hand on his shoulder before he knew someone had joined him.

Instantly, he straightened himself, crossed legged on the ground, but sitting up and pushing away the wetness on his face. When the tears were gone and his vision stopped blurring, he let his eyes wander to the side to see who had come.

It was Thorin. The older dwarf said nothing, but had a knowing look in his eyes. His expression said everything.

_I'm proud of you. _

Shame filled Fili instantly, wondering if what his uncle's eyes said was more for comfort rather than true.

_I'm pathetic_, Fili's expression bit back, but the squeeze on his shoulder demanded his attention.

_No_. Thorin's eyebrows drew together. _What we are doing is hard. I'm proud of you_.

When Fili looked up with questioning eyes— _How am I supposed to do this?—_Thorin responded with a warm grin.

His uncle grasped Fili's hand, clasping it with strength. Coupled with that grin and the quirk of his uncle's brow, Fili knew what the answer was._ Together_.

"We do this together," His uncle whispered aloud.

* * *

The next day, the dwarves set out for the paths of Mirkwood, gathering nervously at the forest's edge and peering into the darkened trees while Gandalf muttered to himself.

Fili had become accustomed to the wizard's habit of speaking to himself and had stopped questioning what the whispers meant—after so many months of travel with the Grey Pilgrim, Fili knew that Gandalf always had more information than he let on and for so many other companions aside from the dwarves that it wouldn't make sense to him if he tried to piece everything together.

"Set the ponies loose," Gandalf instructed, finally addressing the dwarves. "Let them return to their master."

Fili dismounted and watched Kili assist Bilbo in sliding from the hobbit's saddle. The two had struck up an unlikely friendship—Kili, the adventurous and seemingly careless dwarf, and Bilbo, the domestic and cunning burglar that seemed like a fish out of water no matter where their exploits took them. Fili did not share his brother's regard of the hobbit, but didn't question what drew the two to each other.

"This forest seems… sick." Bilbo's nose wrinkled at the sight of the elven structures which must have been beautiful at one time, but were now overgrown with tangled vines and scraggly brush. "As if a disease lies upon it." He looked to Kili for a moment and then back to Gandalf. "Is there no way around?"

"Not unless we go two hundred miles north." The wizard replied. "Or twice that distance, south."

Absolutely not! Fili agreed silently. The quest had already taken long enough just to get to the mountain, but he feared they may be too late in opening the door Thorin and Balin were constantly speaking of. And it didn't help matters that he was lonely for Nur, almost to the point where he wished she had come with them… but he counted his blessings that his brother at least was among their company, though that was a different challenge in itself—

Fili was being sorely tested, attempting to give his younger brother leeway and fighting against his natural instinct to protect Kili from everything. This quest was a proving ground for all of them, but if Fili could not allow his brother the benefit of the doubt here, he imagined he _never_ would.

Was that such a bad thing? Was it so terrible to hover over Kili when he knew the younger dwarf had a propensity for trouble? And his mother—as well as his wife—had asked him to look out for Kili…

The pony Beorn had lent him nudged Fili in the back with its nose, as if reminding him that he needed to remove his belongings from it so that it could return to Beorn. With a small laugh, he imagined that was _exactly_ what the pony was doing, considering who it belonged to…

"You're not leaving us?" Bilbo's voice called out to Gandalf and Fili realized the wizard had stopped Nori from removing the saddle from the horse's back.

"I would not do this unless I had to." Gandalf said apologetically, ignoring Thorin's scowl. After a brief aside with Bilbo, and the beginnings of rain falling around them, Gandalf strode through the group of dwarves. "I'll be waiting for you at the overlook, on the slopes of Erebor. Keep that map and key safe." And turning to Thorin, he commanded, "Do _not_ enter that mountain without me."

Gandalf turned his horse and beckoned it to canter away from the dwarves.

"This is not the greenwood of old!" Gandalf called in reminder. "The very air of the forest is heavy with illusion. It will seek to enter your mind and lead you astray."

"Lead us astray?" Bilbo glanced nervously at Kili. "What does that mean?" But Kili shook his head, clearly unsure what the wizard meant.

"You must stay on the path," Gandalf called in a louder voice as the distance between them grew. "Do not leave it. If you do, you will never find it again!"

Thorin sent Gandalf an angry look that denoted he felt abandoned by the wizard, but Fili was sure he was the only one who saw it.

"And above all," Gandalf shouted loudly, "Do not touch the river! It is enchanted!"

"So we're walking into an evil forest that will try to knock us from the path and enchant us with its waters?" Bilbo gaped.

"Come on," Thorin commanded, heading up the line that walked to the forest path.

* * *

"Is this the river Gandalf spoke of?" Kili heard Bilbo ask.

Kili shrugged. "It is the only one we have seen in two days of travel in this Mahal-forsaken place…"

"We found the bridge!" Nori announced at the lead of the train of dwarves.

"Oh…" Bofur blew out a breath, scratching his head and taking in the sight of the damaged pathway. The bridge had fallen in somewhere in the middle and there was no way to cross over the gap.

"We can try and swim it," Bofur offered.

Kili was about to speak up, but Thorin spoke his thoughts, "Did you not hear what Gandalf said? A dark magic lies upon this forest. The waters of this stream are enchanted."

"It doesn't look very enchanting to me." Bofur muttered.

Passing by the bodies in front of him, Kili stood at the higher break of the bridge, looking out at the vines hanging next to it.

"We must find another way across." Thorin said, but Kili was already trying to figure out that puzzle.

Yanking on the hanging branches and glancing at the water below, Kili gripped a vine and said, "These look strong enough."

He was about to start climbing them when he heard his uncle's voice call out his name, as well as his brother's hand on his arm. "Just a moment, there."

"We send the lightest first." Thorin instructed.

All eyes fell on Bilbo, but Kili shook his head, taking in the hobbit's nervous look. "I don't weigh much more than he does, I'll go."

"Kili, it's alright." Bilbo shook his head, stepping forward and tugging at the vine beside the dwarf. "I'll be alright."

Sparing Bilbo a look that offered once more to take on the task, Kili at least pulled forward the thickest branch he could find to give to the hobbit.

Taking the vine gratefully, the Halfling stepped cautiously out, making his way through the tangles. Climbing, grasping, and sometimes slipping just enough to cause a gasp to erupt from Kili's chest, Bilbo crossed the way and sat himself down on the other shore of the river.

"Something isn't right," Bilbo could be heard muttering, but the dwarves had already begun to climb and wind through the vines. Kili was perched just below Bombur and trying to gain footing when he heard Bilbo call, "Stay where you are—oh."

It was just after the hobbit called to them that Bombur somehow lost footing and fell backwards, missing Kili by only a few inches.

"Bombur!" He screeched, pulling at the dwarf's arm, but the red-haired head had fallen backward with eyes closed and mouth agape. He looked to be asleep, but Kili could not tell as he was busy struggling to keep the heavy Bombur from falling in. "Fili! Help!"

Kili felt Fili's hands pulling at his shoulders before he heard his brother respond to his plea, but the both of them sunk lower as Bombur's weight began to strain the branches and vines with sickening creaks and whines.

"Fili, don't let go!" Kili cried out, using all of his strength to keep Bombur from the water which he perilously hung over by scant inches.

As the majority of the dwarves jumped safely to shore, the tension on the vines released and lowered Kili's perch. With a splash and a sound like a heavy stone being submerged, Bombur fell into the black water—and Kili's upper half with him.

Kili felt his head plunged into wetness, cutting off his air, but he would not let go of Bombur's bulk and struggled to do—well, something! He felt the water filling his nostrils at the same time he felt Fili's hand splash through the water and he could only assume Fili had fallen in as well.

Reaching out a hand to grasp for his brother, he instead caught a very strong hand that hauled him above the surface, allowing him to inhale a glorious breath of air. Forget that the air of the forest was tainted, he was breathing again!

But in his scramble for breath, his sight blurred and blackened, his mind leaving the waking world and descending immediately into a sleep filled with nightmares.

* * *

Fili only grazed the water with his left hand while his right was still clinging to the vine above him. He hadn't meant to let go of Kili, but these branches weren't exactly reliable and almost plunged him in right along with Bombur.

He could see Bombur's legs sticking out of the water and began to panic when he realized Kili was also submerged, upside down, to his waist. He pulled at the younger dwarf's body, but he realized Kili still had a strong hold on Bombur and would not come up easily.

Almost jumping from fright, Fili turned his head to see whose hands had suddenly grasped his shoulders.

"Thorin!" Dwalin called from the shoreline. "Pass that one over to me!"

Fili felt his uncle take hold of his shoulders and questioned why his body wouldn't move with his commands. He'd touched the water, but only with his hand—was that all it took to fall under whatever spell Gandalf had warned them about?

Somehow he had been dragged to solid ground without touching the water again, a set of faces peering over him and asking him a myriad of questions all at once. His eyes seemed to be working, he was awake, why couldn't he speak?

"Here, take Kili." Thorin said from a distance.

Kili! He'd nearly drowned because Fili hadn't kept a good hold of him.

It was more of a struggle than he wanted to admit, but Fili turned his head to the side in time to see Kili laid down beside him.

"Kee?" He whispered, seeing his brother's limp form and closed eyes. Was he dead?

Anger flushed through Fili's bones and granted him enough power to reach a hand out to Kili's neck. There was a pulse, thank Mahal, but Kili was so still…

"Is he going to recover?" Bilbo asked and Fili silently thanked the hobbit for asking what he could not.

"He'll be fine." Thorin grunted as he and a few others hoisted the large body of Bombur to dry land. "Bofur, see if you can wake them."

Fili was awake, but how? He'd touched the water, but… he hadn't drunk it the way Kili and Bombur had…

"Lad, I need you on your feet if you can manage it." He heard Dwalin's voice above him. Turning his head with great effort again, he saw that the warrior was offering him an arm. He wanted to reach out and grab it, but had already exerted what small willpower he had.

"Let's try this," Oin's voice came from behind Dwalin, pack in hand and rifling through a bag. A vial of something green came out and Oin tipped it ever so slightly above Fili's mouth, the doctor's finger on Fili's lip to make an opening.

It tasted like mint and even just the drop of it washed over Fili's body with a chilling feeling. Immediately, he was granted more control, though the movements were still heavy.

"I can stand." He groaned, taking Dwalin's hand when the dwarf offered it again.

Rising shakily to his feet, he watched as Oin repeated the action with the drops on his brother and on Bombur.

"What _is_ that?" Someone asked.

"It's a flower extract—used to draw out infection." The physician answered.

"Kili?" Fili knelt and shook his brother. Kili's eyes fluttered, but only opened halfway. "Kee? Can you hear me?"

The younger dwarf groaned and his limbs twitched, but he returned to the same slumber as before in a moment. Fili's heart broke as he watched his brother's face contort with something akin to fear, and a sinking feeling of guilt and anger flushed through Fili.

It was the same with Bombur, lucid for a moment, and then asleep just as quickly. Only Bombur had woken enough to complain about his lack of meals before falling under again.

"We'll have to carry them," Thorin decided, pulling at Kili's limp body and hauling him upward. Fili would have helped, but he was still weak enough to be of no use while Thorin brought Kili to sit pig-a-back behind him, Kili's arms over Thorin's shoulders and his legs hooked over Thorin's elbows.

Bombur was another matter. At length, they made a gurney out of a network of dry branches and carried him one at each corner.

"Some help I am," Fili moaned to himself, reaching out and smoothing some hair out of Kili's sleeping face. The lad switched between a peaceful, languid expression and a seizing of fear, though he seldom opened his eyes.

"You stopped Kili from falling in entirely." Bilbo spoke at his side. The words caused Fili to jump a little when he realized the hobbit had begun to walk alongside him. "That's got to count for something."

"He shouldn't have fallen in at all," Fili grumbled. "He shouldn't have been there in the first place. I should have—" but he stopped short when he saw Bilbo grinning at him. "What?"

"He may have mentioned that you take on his worries, I've just never heard it for myself." Bilbo smiled, but then straightened his face in what Fili recognized as anxiety over the possibility that he may have said too much and offended the prince.

"It's… partly true." Fili relented, glancing at his brother's sleeping form on Thorin's back while they walked on. "And it's something I'm working on…"

"I think I understand a bit."

Fili nodded, but he was distracted by how angry he had suddenly become. Why was he so incensed? He had been since he'd come from the river and he couldn't quite put his finger on what had started it. He knew he was angry with himself, but it seemed irrational that it had gone this far… perhaps it was an effect of the river. Instead of fear, as Kili portrayed, or hunger, as Bombur portrayed, his reaction to the magic was anger...

Whatever it was, the time passing in the forest was impossible to chart, so Fili was not sure how long it took before Kili and Bombur woke, but they all seemed to be going mad for lack of fresh air. The breaths they took were heavy and laden with the moisture of the trees and the dust of the ground. It was finally Bilbo who consented to climb and see if they had made any progress, but as soon as the hobbit disappeared they had begun to hear strange sounds that forebode nothing good.

The screeching of some animal could be heard as well as the scratching of something sharp against the trunks of trees.

Kili had been terrified since the moment he woke, and Fili had been angry all the while—not with his brother, but with the effects the river seemed to be having on them—as Bombur spoke of nothing but food. However, as the noises drew closer and closer, none of them were much concerned with the three that seemed a little more than out of sorts.

"Spiders!" Bofur wailed as he drew out his heavy hammer.

But he had not spoken soon enough as the entire company was surrounded by the unnaturally large creatures. The spiders hissed and clapped their hairy legs at the dwarves, inching closer to them every second.

Fili was not sure who struck first, but he knew a scuffle had begun and he unleashed his twin blades on the frantically moving feet of the arachnids. No matter how clouded his mind was he would not let them have at his cowering brother, purposing to make amends for dropping Kili into the water.

Despite his best efforts, the spiders overtook him and stung him repeatedly. He shouted out against them, flailing and roaring even as he felt the effects of their venom overtake him, but Fili saw them come after Kili and his spirits dimmed.

Falling to his knees, the last thing he thought before his sight became black was that he had failed again.

* * *

"Good news," The blond healer clapped her hands together as she entered Nur's room. "I spoke to the master physician and he thinks you've made enough progress to be released tomorrow."

Nur's eyes widened and she almost dropped the tea she was holding. "So soon?"

Merag crossed her arms and squinted at Nur. "That's not the response I was expecting. Did you want to stay longer?"

"No," Nur said quickly, setting down her cup on the table beside the bed and putting her hands together in her lap. "I was just working up the nerve to ask for another favor…"

"I think we've gotten to know each other well enough this past week and a half for you to see that you can ask me for anything." Merag laughed. "More spywork?"

Nur rolled her eyes. Merag wasn't really spying when she brought Nur information, especially when the information she needed was already widely known.

"This is a little more complicated." Nur started, taking a breath. "Before he left, Prince Fili wrote me letters."

"That's sweet." Merag beamed with glowing eyes.

"It is," Nur nodded morosely. "And I didn't get to read all of them."

"Why not?"

"Because… well, they're _hidden_." Nur grimaced. "He made a list of all the places that meant something to us and dispersed the letters to them."

Merag did not respond with words, but the increase of the smile on her face was enough to make Nur feel even more guilty.

"He didn't know I was going to be busy with this." She waved a hand at herself. "He doesn't even know I'm in the Akkik."

Merag snorted and grumbled something, but waited for Nur to continue.

"I'm wondering if I can ask you—I've got papers giving me clues—if I brought them to you—"

"Are you sure you want me muddling with something so intimate?" Merag asked, crossing her arms.

"Of all the dwarves in these hills, you and Dul are the only ones I feel I can trust." Nur admitted. Gamul, her instructor may have been trustworthy as well, but she'd rather not to acknowledge the dwarf who was teaching her how to disembowel another being with only her hands.

"This, I can do." Merag smiled with that quirky smile which spoke mischief. Nur was certain that if Merag hadn't been so interested in Dul that she would have made a fine pair with Kili. "You bring me the papers; I'll see if I can find them and deliver them. I think the only problem with the plan is this: While you're in the Akkik, I'm not allowed to drop in on you whenever I please."

"I'll try to get another head injury, then." Nur rolled her eyes.

Merag only laughed at this and Nur wasn't sure if the lass thought she was joking. She wasn't. She was desperate for something from her Fili.

"That won't be necessary, I'll figure something out." Merag winked.

* * *

**Happy Monday :) I know it isn't usual for me to update this quickly, but I'm a little ahead in writing everything and I'm dying to share with you!**

**There was a lot I could have covered in this chapter, but if I included all of the events in the movies, we'd be in for a loooooooong ride. Fan fic .net is filled to the brim with authors who have written those events, which is why I didn't include them in detail- the rock giants, goblin town, the brief fight between Azog and Thorin, and Beorn- however, if you really wanted me to cover one of those events, let me know in the reviews and I'll include it later as a bonus chapter.**

**kaciart .tumblr post/44338914184 By the way, this is the art prompt for when Kili comes out of the river (I totally do not own it, but this artist is UH-MAY-ZING)**

**See you this Friday!**


	10. Ch 10 -- Allies and Enemies

**Gold and Fire – Chapter 10 – Allies and Enemies**

_All I ever wanted, secrets that you keep. All you ever wanted, the truth I couldn't speak._

_Cause I can't see forgiveness and you can't see the crime_

_and we both keep on waiting for what we've left behind_

_**Linkin Park "Final Masquerade"**_

* * *

**youtube .com watch?v=7mjRvSJyS20 "Drawbar" Linkin Park**

Kili was terrified.

Whatever amount of water he'd inadvertently guzzled from the river, it had been sufficient to have an effect on him—every movement seemed out of sync, his sense of direction was off, and every noise seemed to set his nerves on edge.

The only time the enchantment of the river had lessened was when he had been struck by a stinger from the horrible spiders that closed in on the dwarves.

It was ironic to him, in his last moments of consciousness, that it took spider venom to calm his senses and lessen the fear that threatened to plunge him into madness. He imagined that if Oin had been awake enough to see, the doctor would have laughed at the irony as well.

When Kili awoke again, he was nestled snugly and believed himself to be bound in blankets. It would have been a wonderfully comforting feeling if he could only shake the sensation of hanging from something.

Opening his eyes a little, he saw that the blankets had been pulled over his face and went to tug them down, but his hands were held fast at his sides. With widening eyes, he realized it was not a blanket he was wrapped up in, but some sort of netting—a sticky netting.

"Mahal, what's this?" Kili murmured, finding his lips slurring the words.

Spiders. His heart stopped. Spiders! They had attacked him, stung him…

_A web. I am cocooned in a web!_ Frantically he wiggled and pulled but could not manage to do more than sway from the branch that held him. _More hanging, why am I always dangling from something?_

He heard something cutting away at his bindings. _No, oh, Mahal—No! The spiders have returned!_

"Help!" He screeched.

"Quiet down!" He heard the whisper of Bilbo. "You'll bring them back."

"Bilbo?" Kili breathed in relief.

"At your service." Bilbo murmured and Kili could almost hear the grin on the hobbit's face. "I'm going to lower you down now."

"How far is the drop?" The blinded Kili asked nervously.

A pause. "Farther than you'd like to know, but preferable to being eaten by spiders." Bilbo answered.

Kili nodded. This was one of the reasons he admired Bilbo—the hobbit had a good sense of what was practical. "Then get on with it."

The archer felt himself free-falling for a moment and then collided with the ground feet first. The impact was enough to knock the air out of him, but not to injure him beyond use. He found the slit Bilbo had cut near his hands and clawed his way through the sticky netting, looking around and seeing his companions do likewise. He counted himself lucky that he hadn't been hanging upside down like some of the bodies littered beside him.

Swords were drawn and spider bodies were hacked as the over-sized insects discovered that their meals were beginning to wander off. But it was only a few moments before he realized there were arrows being sent in their direction, hitting marks on the spiders only an excellent archer could have made—and Kili's bow was _not_ in his hand…

Elves! The elves were killing the spiders! He and his companions continued to hack through the arachnid bodies until the dwarves began to collide with each other, trying to draw away from the hands of the elves.

"Oh, Mahal," Kili took his head in his hands, warding off his dizziness. He'd managed to slay a few of the beasts, but his energy was running low and he was plagued with a throbbing headache.

Looking around, he realized the dwarves had been corralled and led away, leaving him behind, though he couldn't place why. The skitter of legs surrounded him and he realized he'd dropped his sword!

He glanced around and realized he was hopelessly outnumbered.

"Help!" He called out and heard his brother answer in the distance, but it wasn't close enough.

A spider jumped right on top of him, sending him backward against the ground, wrestling with the spider's vile mouth.

The creature drew back, though, as an arrow shaft suddenly protruded from its head just between the eyes. Even in his panicked state, Kili could admire the work of a fellow archer and judged that whomever sent it had done their fair share of training.

Kili rose and saw that it was an elf-maid with long red hair and a glower that could have rivaled his uncle's. But his assessment of his rescuer was short-lived when he saw more spiders closing in.

"Throw me a dagger!" Kili shouted in terror at the elf, his senses overwhelmed with fear as the lingering traces of the river continued to flow through his blood. "Quick!" He emphasized as a spider drew closer.

"If you think I'm giving you a weapon, dwarf," she snarled. "You're mistaken!"

Tossing a blade into the many eyes of the arachnid closing in on Kili, she smiled, looking grimly satisfied that even from the distance her weapon had found its mark so perfectly.

Kili turned to face her with wide eyes. "Please…" he murmured weakly, stepping back and away from her. "Don't..."

He felt a stab of disgrace shoot through him, but he could not fight against the distress the spiders had incited. He longed terribly for his former bravery and confidence, but that magic stream was still playing on his nerves and Kili was convinced that this elf meant him harm.

"Are you going to kill me now?" He asked, shame filling him for uttering such a weak question in a wavering voice that betrayed his fear. He stumbled backward, falling to his backside ungracefully.

The red-haired elf raised an eyebrow. "I would not have saved you from those creatures if I had wanted you dead." And taking in his expression of horror, her gaze softened and she stepped closer.

Kili eyed her warily as she reached out a hand to help him to his feet. Looking for a moment at the offered hand, he shrunk back a little. "And what tortures await me in your captivity?"

The elf looked dumbstruck at this question and withdrew her hand. "You have fallen into the river." She was not asking a question so much as scrutinizing his still damp clothes and hair, as well as the terrified demeanor of the young dwarf. "It has an effect on the mind…"

With eyes full of pity, she consoled him in a milder tone, "Do not be afraid; I will not harm you. I only mean to bring you before my king."

"And my companions?" Kili looked around, glancing at her through the corner of his eye.

"I will bring you to them if you will rise." She offered her hand again.

This time he took it slowly, startled by her strength as she pulled him to his feet almost effortlessly.

"Thank you." He murmured, a little less intimidated by the elf who spoke so softly to him. He hated being so vulnerable, hated having to ask for help at all, but he also couldn't fight those sensations working against him.

Unconsciously, he walked close beside the elf, seeking the warmth and comfort of another body while they closed the distance to the other dwarves. The elf seemed to notice his proximity but did not shy away from it or make mention of it, and he thought that it might be because she sympathized with him for the effects that strange water was having on him. Perhaps the elves were familiar with its dark magic.

"It will wane." She soothed lightly, as if reading his thoughts. "The river is powerful and can leave one feeling… helpless. I have suffered its spell."

Kili's eyebrows rose. "_You_ have?"

"Many, many years ago." She said with grief. "I have wept many nights over the dark power residing here; it was not always so perilous."

He wasn't sure if her candor with him was due to her pity or because she naturally did not find him offensive—as most elves were prone to—but it made him feel more comfortable.

"I'm sorry." Kili whispered in a low voice. "It must have been beautiful."

"It was," she said with a grin, looking down at him with a grateful expression, "and it will be again someday…" The elf-maid fixed an eye on him and pressed her lips together. "Why are you here?"

"Honestly," Kili sighed. "I'm beginning to ask myself that same question."

She might have said more, he wasn't sure, but when he caught sight of his brother, nothing else in the world mattered. He ran, diving into Fili's arms and clutching at him to draw strength and courage from his brother's presence.

"Nadadith!" Fili murmured into Kili's neck while his arms held the younger dwarf in an iron caged grip. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry I didn't—"

"Shut _up_." Kili snarled, pulling his arms around his brother that much tighter. "You can't be everywhere at once. Help was not far."

He could feel Fili's chin moved on his shoulder, probably glancing at the red-haired elf behind them.

At an elvish call, the company began moving forward in a line between elf guards. They were brought through the trees and over a bridge, entering through double doors to some sort of fortress. At least, it looked like a fortress to Kili, but he couldn't be sure what portion of the walls was nature and which was stone—and he assumed that was the point: nature and man-made structure living together in harmony.

They were brought down pathways and steps into the lowest levels and shoved into various cells carved into the stone.

Kili was not shoved, though, as the elf-maid hovered almost protectively over him, not bothering to bind his hands as some of his companions had endured, and not pressing him forward with the point of a weapon.

Though her kindness was touching to Kili, he also felt a pang of embarrassment—recognizing that yet another being in Middle-earth was making it their mission to take care of him. He was tired of others looking after him.

"Aren't you going to search me?" He asked cheekily. It was a front for the lingering fear that dappled his senses.

The elf looked down at him in confusion.

He hoped to further confuse the elf—and save himself some dignity by shooing her away—and said the most offensive thing he could conjure at that moment: "I could have anything down my trousers."

But the elf-maiden did not look offended—no, she looked more like she was accepting a challenge and sent him a smirk. "Or nothing." She replied when she swung his cell door closed. She strode confidently away, but not before sending him one last grin.

With hands on the bars, he knelt his forehead against them, smiling mischievously and pondering the elf who seemed undaunted—and indeed, amused?— by the remark he'd meant for harm.

* * *

**youtube .com watch?v=2KYMCwEkcWo "Skin to Bone" Linkin Park instrumental remix**

Survival training. Nur had been freshly returned to the Akkik for an assignment of two days in the woods with nothing but their weapons. She wondered how the trainers meant to enforce the rules they instructed, but then remembered that a majority of it was an honor system. Those who were there wanted to be there and followed the guidelines because they wanted to learn what the Akkik tried to teach them.

Too bad some of them didn't have any honor, Nur thought with a roll of her eyes. She had engaged Dul in small conversation but withdrew into herself when she let her thoughts wander to Kurn.

Kurn. She'd been released from probation much quicker than Nur judged was appropriate and the Princess wasn't entirely sure Kurn was even affected by it. Unfair, Nur said silently, but then most of the challenges thrown their way were unfair—a reflection of reality, of life in the world beyond the comfort of one's hearth.

Dul seemed to be doing his best to tend to Nur with conversation, taking in her quiet demeanor and offering her words of encouragement. But those words would do nothing, so dark was her skepticism and cynicism that she ignored him without meaning to. She saw his concerned eyes, though, and a part of her knew it was wrong to lose hope the way she did.

Nur decided she needed to move around if she was going to make an attempt at battling her grim thoughts—which had _nothing_ to do with the exercise they were currently taking part in and _everything_ to do with the sense of losing control—and rose from her sitting place beside their campfire, halting Dul's offer to accompany her with a wave of her hand.

It was ungracious of her, she recognized, to ward off his desire to help, but she needed to be alone.

A few minutes through the trees, she heard a voice behind her. "So the Princess returns." Nur didn't need to turn to know who it was.

"Our trainees seem to be dropping like flies." Kurn spoke on. "Though we already knew some of them wouldn't make it to the finish."

Nur knew Kurn was speaking of Oda. Strong, loyal Oda who'd gotten in over her head, though she was still useful in so many other ways…

"Not today, Kurn." Nur sighed, still refusing to turn around. But she didn't need to; Kurn was already moving in front of her.

The dwarf's half-mustache was almost amusing to Nur and she might have laughed out loud if it hadn't been for what Kurn said next: "I hear I am to congratulate you for your nuptials."

Nur's blood began to boil. _No, you can talk about Oda, you can talk about Dul, you can even insult me, but don't you dare speak my beloved's name._ She clenched her fists.

"Although, there is a rumor going around that Prince Fili—" Kurn was knocked to the ground instantly as Nur's fist jutted out at the lass's nose. A small stream of blood began to flow from Kurn's nostril and she looked up at Nur in shock.

_Oh, how the tables have turned_, Nur thought, hovering over Kurn, sword at the ready. She stepped a foot on each of Kurn's hands, stopping her from rising, and sat on the lass's stomach, leaning closer to Kurn's face.

"I have half a mind to finish the work I started on your mustache." Nur snarled, bringing the blade closer to Kurn's face.

Kurn did not snarl back, but seemed to cower at the glint in Nur's eyes, understanding that the Princess had been brought into dangerous territory with her fury and was capable of exacting revenge in whatever way she felt was just.

"Nur!" Dul's voice broke through the lasses' assessment of each other. "Stop!"

Hands pulled Nur off of Kurn and wrenched the sword from her hand.

"Leave, Kurn." Dul said in a voice that was almost sympathetic. The black-haired dwarf scrambled to her feet and disappeared at a run.

Sympathy? Kurn didn't deserve sympathy! Nur shouted in her mind.

"Lass," Dul turned Nur to face him, strong hands on her resistant shoulders. "You need to calm down; don't take your troubles out on that dwarf."

Nur refused to speak, clenching her jaw shut and arguing with him in her head. _Not_ taking her troubles out on Kurn didn't make sense—Kurn deserved every ounce of harsh treatment Nur could heap on her—Kurn was full of evil intent, full of wickedness that only responded to stronger wickedness—Nur was strong, she could be stronger than Kurn if she had to—

"Answer me!" Dul shouted with a shake of her shoulders.

Had he asked her a question? Nur was so full of anger she hadn't really noticed. But he saw her expression and realized Nur's mind was wandering into a different world than he was in.

"Nur," He said in a calmer voice. "Tell me why you joined the Akkik."

"I did it to save Fili."

"What does that even mean?"

Nur sneered. "It means I bought him an army to help him take the mountain with a promise to get stronger."

"Lass," Dul shook his head, pity in his eyes. "That is _not_ what you were doing just a moment ago."

She felt her anger wearing off as she took in the words and walked in a daze as he directed her back to their campfire. Sitting her down beside the fire and covering her with his jacket, Dul put an arm around the sitting Princess and commanded her to eat and drink from the resources they'd compiled from the forest.

Nur didn't question the treatment, but obeyed in a numb haze—her mind had become completely blank and only had enough sense to move her limbs to do as Dul told her.

The water and the turkey invigorated her, the jacket and the fire warmed her—she hadn't even realized she was cold—and Dul's arm over her shoulder made her feel safe. It was suddenly strange to her how she was able to consider two days of being left alone in the forest with nothing but her weapon as a restful break from training, but she understood that this was the point of the Akkik: preparing her for extremes so that she could overcome almost any obstacle.

Dul sensed her return to the lucid world and squeezed her shoulder. "You're being pushed to the breaking point, but you have to remember to keep your principles."

Nur was a little irked that Dul had said it so concisely. "Why? What's the point? The only thing my enemies will ever understand is how much power I can have over them." She said bitterly.

"This is not about what your enemies think of you." Dul responded in a scolding manner. "This is about who you are."

"I'm not the same as I was when this started." She admitted.

"That was inevitable." He said with a nod. "But take care that you do not change from the lady dwarf your husband married."

A pause. How could she have forgotten something so simple? She'd been separated from her beloved for so long… Fili would not have approved of her—now admittedly—overreaction to Kurn. Not that his approval of her actions mattered… Wait, where had that thought come from? His approval _did_ matter.

"You've got a lot of weight on your shoulders, Princess Nur," Dul broke through her thoughts. "Remember why you're doing what you're doing and who you're doing it for." He pulled his arm back and rested his hands together in his lap. "Furthermore, you need to know how you're going to approach your father and change his mind."

Shaking her head, she spoke quickly. "I don't want to talk about that; there's nothing I can do until I've finished training."

"Then tell me—if your father was standing here, now, what would you say to him?"

Her forehead wrinkled. "I'd resist calling him names…" But when she saw that this answer wasn't enough for Dul, she sighed. "I'd beg him to reconsider."

"You'd beg?" Dul murmured. "Is that something you learned yourself or did the Akkik teach it to you?"

Nur rolled her eyes at her friend's sarcasm, but then her thoughts started to follow his implications…

"Begging denotes that he has the power." Dul reminded her. "What you want to do is convince him that _you_ have the power. That way he'll submit to your wishes."

"He's the _King_," Nur reminded him incredulously. "He won't _submit_ to anything."

"No, he's your father." Dul said impatiently. "And his children are probably the only ones who can seriously challenge his decisions without being banished or having their heads cut off."

"He wouldn't kill or banish anyone for disagreeing with him." Nur squinted at the absurdity.

"Then what do you have to lose?" Dul asked quietly.

Nur's eyes widened. "Well met." She murmured.

"If you've learned anything of the strategy of war in the Akkik," Dul said with a gleam in his eye, "Your father won't be able to refuse your wishes."

* * *

**youtube .com watch?v=afGfvLTxE4E "Hither and Yon" Gungor**

Thranduil fixed his eyes on the dwarven leader and Thorin could feel the elf's gaze pierce into his soul, searching for something.

"Some may imagine that a noble quest is at hand," Thranduil began in a slow, lulling voice. Another might think it beautiful, but Thorin knew it to be full of deception and poison. "A quest to reclaim a homeland and slay a dragon."

Thorin refused to meet the elf-king's gaze.

"I myself suspect a more prosaic motive." Thranduil walked slowly behind Thorin. "Attempted burglary or something of that ilk." Thranduil bent so that his face was level with Thorin's. "You have found a way in."

A way in. Something Thorin had not had before. Something that had stopped Thranduil from obtaining the jewels he held so dear. Something that would enable him to include Thranduil's desired jewels among the bounty, in an effort to keep true to the promises the elf-king had made so long ago.

Oh, so long ago… when the dragon had entered the halls of Thorin's heritage and sent the dwarves scrambling out, they had come to the elves for help and the King had demanded the jewels as payment for that help…

"…that which would bestow upon you the right to rule," Thranduil interrupted Thorin's recollection. "The king's jewel. The Arkenstone."

At this, Thorin's eyes dropped. It was no secret that he longed for it—longed for something that would solidify his rule again so that he could gather his people together once more, but something else was at play here… just the naming of the stone sent a roll of powerful desire through Thorin and he found the sensation unnatural. Now he chanced a glance at Thranduil and saw that the King was narrowing his eyes, as though digging into Thorin's inner being.

"It is precious to you beyond measure." The elven king towered above Thorin, grinning at him with an intent Thorin couldn't place. "I understand that."

Had the elf-king enchanted him? Had Thorin somehow succumb to the evil wiles of the seemingly righteous Thranduil? He suspected that it was not beyond the King's ability to place that kind of intent in Thorin's heart, amplifying the longing to a heavy degree…

"There are gems in the mountain that I, too, desire." Thranduil's face suddenly became serious. "White gems of pure starlight."

Now Thorin began to understand. Elf magic was difficult to resist and Thranduil was the master of magic unknown even to his own kin—certainly, Thranduil _had_ planted some sort of desire in Thorin, something to motivate him to not only long after the Arkenstone, but also to deliver to the elven king those jewels the king had asked for long ago.

"I offer you my help," Thranduil bowed his head, similar to the same words and gestures he had used when Thorin had first come to this wayward haven for aid.

"I am listening." Thorin lied. He wanted to hear it: the admission from the mouth of the elf-king himself.

"I will let you go, if you but return what is mine."

There it was. Thorin could recognize it now. Of course he wanted the Arkenstone because with it he could rule even from another hall, from within another kingdom. With it, he could unite his lost brethren, even if Erebor must sit in ruins for another sixty years. They would find a way to remove the dragon, it was only a matter of time, but the Arkenstone was the key to making it all happen. And now Thranduil was creating with his magic a lust inside of Thorin, an overwhelming desire for the stone, so that Thorin could not resist entering the mountain…

But Runa…

Thorin was sure he could not resist Thranduil's magic, but the name of Thorin's beloved was a different sort of magic and it helped him to keep his wits sharp despite the elf-king's lulling words.

"A favor for a favor." Thorin said, pacing the floor and looking away so that Thranduil would not see the smirk on his face.

"You have my word. One King to another." Thranduil said in what Thorin assumed was another attempt at fogging his mind.

Runa, Thorin said silently again. He let the anger over her death wash over him and clear away his lust for the Arkenstone.

"I would not trust Thranduil, great king, or his word till the end of all days fell upon us." And turning back to face the king, he said, "You! You lack all honor!"

Runa, he reminded himself repeatedly. Her crumpled body in his arms. The humiliation she endured because Thranduil had offered help too late. It struck Thorin that while greed was inherent in his own race, the elf-king seemed to display more than a dwarf's share.

"I have seen how you treat your friends!" Thorin growled.

Runa. She had been so close to saving…

"We came to you, once, starving, homeless, seeking your help," Thorin roared. He could see the shock on Thranduil's face in understanding that no matter the amount of magic he secretly fed into Thorin's mind to make him want the Arkenstone, the grudge Thorin held against the king for the death of Runa was stronger. "You turned away from the suffering of my people! And the inferno that destroyed us!"

"Do not talk to me of dragon fire!" Thranduil said, coming close to Thorin again, and Thorin did his best to keep his eyes away from the elven king's, sure that this was the way Thranduil was sinking his enchantment over the dwarf. "I know its wrath and ruin," and using his power to reveal a gory wound that covered his face for a moment, the elf painfully shuddered. "I have faced the great dragons of the north."

Taking a step back, Thranduil collected himself again. "I warned your grandfather of what his greed would summon, but he would not listen. You are just like him."

Thranduil ascended the set of stairs to his throne, looking down on the dwarf and raising his head high. With a wave of his hand, the guards took Thorin's arms behind his back and ushered him down a path.

"Stay here if you will and rot, a hundred years is a mere blink in the eyes of an elf. I'm patient. I can wait." The elf-king sneered.

After having been dragged into a cell carved from rock, Thorin stood back and felt his desire for the Arkenstone increase. It would grow, he assumed, until he had it in his hand…

"Did he offer you a deal?" He heard Balin's voice from up above him.

"He did." Thorin groaned. He knew what his advisor would say, what the older dwarf would think. And he didn't care right at that moment. All he cared about was his hatred for the elf-king, who just as well might have killed Runa with his own hands, and his desire for the stone that had once been his redemption and was now a curse.

* * *

**Happy Thursday, all! I'm a little ahead in chapters, so I'm going to be submitting the next one this Monday :) I don't know if this will become a habit, but I think that depends on your feedback ;) **

**Have you seen the trailer for The Desolation of Smaug Extended Edition?! O.o wow...**

**Thank you to BlueRiverSteel and SummerAlden for being amazing editors!**

**By the way, can I get a woot for Tauriel/Kili? :D There's more to come- believe me, it will be epic!**


	11. Ch 11 -- Whispers

**Gold and Fire – Chapter 11 – Challenges**

_I am the white dove for a soldier, ever marching as to war_

_I would give my life to save you, I stand guarding at your door_

_I give you all that I am_

_**Rob Thomas "All That I Am"**_

* * *

**youtube .com watch?v=SxkLxo-yVKs "Find me" Gungor**

_-September-_

_Thorin._

"Again?" Thorin groaned. "What is this bewitchment?"

He sat against the wall of his cell, elbows against his bent knees while he took his head in his hands, plagued again by the whisper that only he seemed to hear.

_You are closer now, _it said with hope_. Make haste to me._

Thorin sighed. "And how am I to escape these walls?" He asked, not really expecting an answer.

_You will find a way. Thrain found a way when he was held captive._

"My father," Thorin's eyes went wide. "How do you know of my father?"

_Thror and Thrain loved me. You will learn to love me when you have seen me again._

"Again? You speak in riddles, I do not even know who you are." The dwarf groaned.

_I am in the mountain_, it spoke seductively. _You have seen me before and when we are reunited, we will be whole again!_

Thorin paused a moment, taking in a shaky breath. "Are you… are you Runa?"

_I am not._ It admitted.

Ducking his head into his knees, he groaned at the unexpected heaviness of his disappointment. He should have known better, how could he have hoped for such a thing to begin with? She had died so many years ago and he thought his heartbreak over her had dulled, but everything and everyone seemed insistent on opening that wound.

_I am something far better, for I will never perish, never abandon you as your former love did. I will endure as long as you live and I will sustain you!_

Thorin knew it was foolishness to give into the voice and its promises, but he was so sorely tired from running, from struggling against his enemies, from caring for all others while he neglected himself that he could not find it within him to reject the voice.

_My love,_ it lulled, ushering him to sleep. _You have carried so much weight and found rest nowhere. You will despair no more when we are together._

Thorin, straining against that last remnant of reason which told him to disregard the voice, believed it.

* * *

**youtube .com watch?v=OaB3ZoJZlTY "One October Song" Nico Stai**

Tauriel's prejudice against dwarves was a borrowed notion from her people and not something she had built from her own experiences. And those experiences had been limited to the Greenwood—though everyone was calling it Mirkwood—forest, despite her desire to see what lay beyond it.

She could not truly hold it against King Thranduil, who had become her caretaker after her parents died, that he kept her from venturing far as she understood it was his way of keeping her safe, but she did not enjoy being confined.

There was a secret part of Tauriel that was satisfied the dwarves had entered their lands, as she might otherwise have missed her opportunity to see what all the fuss was about—and she learned that some of the elves' bias was completely unreasonable.

_Of course_ the dwarves were rude; they were being held prisoner.

_Of course_ the dwarves were unkempt; they had been traipsing through an enchanted forest and were set upon by spiders—and one could not ignore the intricacy of some of their braided hair, another fact resisting the notion that dwarves did not care for their appearance.

_Of course_ the dwarves were oddly shaped; they were an entirely different race! They had their own standards of beauty, such as their beards. The facial hair was a point of curiosity to Tauriel, who was not often exposed to it and had certainly never touched it herself.

There was a red-headed dwarf in the dungeons who had an overwhelming wealth of beard hair, bound by silver clasps and flowing from shoulder to shoulder across his chest. This kind of hair seemed intimidating to Tauriel, but the happy medium between smooth jawlines and the red-bearded dwarf was… well, Kili. What he had was not substantial, but there was stubble enough to make Tauriel curious about its texture…

When had she come to this? What had possessed her? Was she truly allowing herself a moment to question what facial hair would feel like under her fingers? And on a dwarf, no less… She was obviously aware of the magic in her own kin, but was sadly lacking in knowledge of what dwarves might possess…

No. Kili had worked no such spell over her, she knew. It was his fear in the forest that had called out a protective part of her, coupled with his love and loyalty to his brother, which was another point of fascination to her.

King Thranduil had taken care of her at a young age, but never had he given her the same physical affection or emotional foundation that she had seen other fathers give. And with no siblings or mother-figure to call upon, Tauriel had been forced to live without while watching others draw strength from those connections. Maybe this was why the dwarven brothers had so captured her attention; they so openly and unashamedly displayed something she had never had—but had always longed for… and still did.

These were the thoughts that engaged Tauriel's mind when Thranduil's voice called out to her.

"I know you're there. Why do you linger in the shadows?"

She hadn't meant to, but Tauriel had become distracted in her thoughts.

"I was coming to report to you." She answered, because _I was lost in my imagination and thinking of stroking the beard of a dwarf_ wouldn't have been appropriate.

"I thought I ordered that nest to be destroyed not two moons past." He said when she clipped her boots together, standing before him.

"We cleared the forest, as ordered, my lord." She said with frustration. "But more spiders keep coming up from the south. They are spawning in the ruins of Dol Goldur," and then her eyes brightened—an opportunity to leave the forest of Mirkwood had inadvertently come to her, "If we could kill them at their source—"

"That fortress lies beyond our borders," the King said, catching the excitement in her voice and letting her know he disapproved. "Keep our lands clear of those foul creatures." And then in a firmer voice, he added, "_That_ is your task." _Not exploring_, she could almost hear him add.

"And when we drive them off?" Tauriel pressed her point. "What then? Will they not spread to other lands?"

"Other lands are not my concern." He said blandly.

Tauriel did her best to temper her incredulous expression, but she knew it was plain. How could he be so cold and uncaring?

"The fortunes of the world will rise and fall," Thranduil said ominously, "But here in this kingdom, we will endure."

Now Tauriel understood. It wasn't just her who was being held captive within these walls and the forest, it was _everyone_ under King Thranduil's rule. He had decided that the only way to keep his people safe was to lock them in a beautiful cage, where at least evil could not get in. But, Tauriel moaned inwardly, that also meant nothing could get _out_.

Nodding her head and turning to leave, Tauriel was halted by Thranduil's voice again.

"Legolas said you fought well today."

Tauriel responded with a smile. What else could she do? It was an awkward statement to acknowledge, let alone answer.

"He has grown very fond of you." The King mused.

She did her best to keep her jaw from dropping, but did nothing to stop her eyebrows from raising. The way the King said it… "I assure you, my Lord, Legolas thinks of me as no more than captain of the guard."

"Perhaps he did once." Thranduil said, striding past her to a table and chair. "Now, I'm not so sure."

Was that _disgust_ in his voice? And was he really implying that Legolas felt…

There was only one way to confirm it. "I did not think you would allow your son to pledge himself to a lowly Silvan elf."

"No, you're right," He answered quicker than she thought was necessary. "I would not."

Tauriel wanted to roll her eyes. It wasn't as though she felt romantically about Legolas and it was laughable that his father would imply it. She could even let the King's prejudice of her inferior elvish bloodlines pass in light of how ridiculous the conversation was.

"Still, he cares for you." The King continued while pouring himself a glass of wine. "Do not give him hope where there is none."

And this was where something in Tauriel snapped. She had been given orders before in the same tone and realized that King Thranduil was _forbidding_ her from allowing Legolas to pursue _her_.

Of all the elves in that realm, Legolas was the one she knew best and if ever she'd had to make a decision on whom she would choose for herself, she supposed it would be him. But now his father was forbidding even that small amount of hope. Would he stifle her every desire?

No travel outside of their realm. No interaction with any except captives—as her status of Captain, she began to realize, was just another way Thranduil kept her close, kept her "safe". No relationship with the only elf she'd ever really considered.

These thoughts followed her through the halls as she made her way to the dungeons.

* * *

**youtube .com watch?v=Qb1GSnyFEqk "Words remain (live in NYC)" Josh Garrels**

Fili's sense of despair grew when he realized the elves had completely cleaned him out of weapons save for one small blade. They had even discovered the knife sewn into his pant leg. He sat on the floor, elbows propped against his bent knees, and hands fingering the knife edge which was too wide to pick the lock and too small to threaten the guard with.

And… well, he didn't think he could threaten the guard if he wanted to—she had saved his brother's life and guarded over Kili with more gentleness than he himself had endured. He was too grateful to be convincingly aggressive.

"Kili," He called. He heard nothing at first, but then inclined his ear to the barred door and realized his brother was already talking to someone.

"… a fire-moon once," Kili was saying to the red-headed guard, though Fili had to strain his hearing to catch it. "It rose over the paths near Dunland. Huge. Red and gold it was, filled the sky. We were an escort for some merchants in Ered Luin, they were trading in silverwork for furs. We took the Greenway south, keeping the mountain to our left—"

Mahal, was he going to tell her everything? Fili rolled his eyes. But he couldn't hold it against his brother, really. The elf was enchanting, though none of them really would have admitted to it, and they had delved so deep into danger that it was almost a relief to be captured and forced to take rest.

Nevermind the cell, this was a place where they were safe, even though it prevented them from their objective. But Fili had heard Thorin whispering to Balin that Bilbo had not been accounted for and knew that the hobbit would not abandon them.

Fili was suddenly alerted to the presence of someone standing on the ledge across from his cell. It was the blonde-haired elf-prince, and he looked down at the elf-maid and dwarf who spoke together in hushed tones. He was glaring.

With a snort and a laugh, Fili stood, catching the attention of the blonde elf.

"Problem?" He called out to the elf, who didn't look so much startled by Fili's sudden outburst as disgusted that he was being addressed by a dwarf. The elf responded with a turn of his heel and disappeared into the doorway behind him.

Apparently, Fili's shout had alerted the speakers to the elf-prince's exit because the red-haired elf stood and murmured something about returning to her duties.

She rose along the steps of the stone path to pass by Fili's cell and Fili reached a hand through the bars to grasp at her elbow. She stopped, looking surprised by the grip, but not shrugging it off.

This was his moment, the blade was in his other hand, he could easily take her out and rescue his companions… but… just as he anticipated, Fili lacked the conviction to do the deed when he was feeling so indebted. And her expression—she did not consider him a threat and was not revolted by his touch as she should have been—was one of expectancy, waiting for him to speak and giving him her attention.

Mahal, why did she have to be so likeable in comparison to the other elves he'd met?

"Thank you," he finally blurted out. "My brother… he would have perished if it hadn't been for you."

As much as he wanted to add that he owed her a favor, he couldn't bring himself to it. Likeable or not, _that_ was just going too far with an elf.

"It was my sincere pleasure." She nodded.

"It's just…" Fili struggled for the words, but released his hold on her arm. "Why? As much as I am obliged to you, you could just as easily have—"

"_All_ life is sacred." She interrupted him firmly. "Race is unimportant."

Fili lowered his head with a laugh. "I'm not so sure your King would agree with that. But thank you…"

"Tauriel." She offered. "And you are Fili?"

"My brother's been talking about me." He murmured, slinking further back into his cell.

"He has," She said with a raised brow.

Fili knew she was watching him as he sat on a stone bench—the only furniture of the cell—and leaned his head against the wall. She seemed to be considering something and walked out of sight, apparently done with their conversation.

The next sound he heard was the clank of a cell door and shuffling feet, an objection coming from someone's mouth and then steps ascending the stairs again. It didn't much concern him until he saw his own cell door swing open to admit Kili in and then slam shut again.

"Maiden, I could kiss you for such a thing." Kili grinned at her through the bars, but she had already stepped swiftly away, as if embarrassed for committing such an act.

Fili rose and intercepted one of the warmest embraces from his brother he had received in the whole of their quest.

"What was that all about?" Fili snickered when they finally pulled away.

"I might have mentioned that you were in poor spirits." Kili half-grinned. "Though I honestly can't understand why it would matter to her." They both sat upon the stone bench. "Still, I am glad for whatever madness overcame the elf; I knew you were moping up here, taking on more than your fair share of burdens with no Kili to tell your thoughts to shove off."

* * *

**youtube .com watch?v=IiYWOU9j9w0 "All That I Am" Rob Thomas**

The Rings. The time had finally come.

Nur wasn't looking forward to anything in her training, but least of all this. At least she'd become accustomed to obeying orders, and her previous exploits under her commanders had been brutal according to the standards of the common folk. According to those same standards, _this_ would be considered torture.

But it was conditioning, she reminded herself. If she was captured by an enemy, they would be less kind to her than her instructors were going to be. Even so… the Rings…

Gamul stood on a platform built into the side of the mountain. It was a porch of wooden planks, simple, flat, and overlooking the great chasm beneath it. Anyone could fall to their death from this height.

"Nur," he said her name as she strode forward. He had stopped calling her Princess some time ago.

She took a step to be level with Gamul, glancing at the abyss below them, made more ominous by the fog.

"I have two gifts for you today."

Nur's head turned to face him. Gifts? That was not a good thing. He had a way with irony and those terms in the training room never bode well…

"First," he said, holding up a finger. "The masters and I agree that there is not enough time for normal Rings. You will be posted here for one day instead of three."

Her head shot up, glaring at him.

"And the second—" he began.

"There is enough time to pass all three days here." She murmured. "Do you believe I cannot endure it, or is this special treatment?"

Gamul held up a hand. "My belief in you is not what is at stake here. I am under orders the same as you."

"Then you'll honor me with all three days."

Gamul smiled. She had excelled far from what he had hoped in those beginning days of her Akkik training. "I am not authorized to give you more than two."

She gave him a wry smile. "You knew I wouldn't take one, didn't you?" she sighed. "Fine. Two."

"The second gift," he began again, pulling a long, rolled-up cloth from behind him and unrolling it on the ground, revealing a set of pikes. "Normally, the instructors choose the rings, but in this case," he rolled his eyes. "There are certain changes to this practice which the King himself has ordered because of your royal heritage."

So that was the reason for the softening of everything—her father, still feeling somewhat guilty that he'd pushed her far enough to resort to the Akkik, had done what he could to make it easy for her.

But she did not want it to be easy, that defeated its purpose.

"Then you can tell him whatever you like, but he's not here to witness it, and _you_ may choose my rings."

Gamul stepped forward, a hand on her wrist. She shied away from him—she did not like to be touched. There were only three exceptions to that rule and while one of the dwarves was still in training with her, the other two dwarves were travelling afar.

"There are times when that kind of rebellion is necessary, but we must always pay respect to the King."

"He is not _my_ King. I am not a subject of the Iron Hills." She reminded him. "By marriage, I belong to the court of Erebor."

"Which does not exist."

"_Yet_." She added to his assertion.

They had been through this before and he did not wish to open up the argument again, so he knelt down and peered at the options, glancing at her every now and then to make a choice.

He pulled out the narrowest shafts, curved-spiral etches rounding the metal shoot in decoration. It looked like an arrow shaft to Nur, except that it had no fletching at the end, though it was sharply pointed.

He held the blunt end of the pike to her ear, sizing it to her lobe and nodded, seemingly satisfied. He lowered the pike into her hands and fetched its counterpart from the cloth on the ground.

She rolled the shaft around in her fingers, secretly enjoying that he had chosen one with as close to flowery a pattern as he could find. Not that anyone would really be able to see…

"Lie there." He instructed, a finger pointing to the center of the platform. The flat platform measured a few meters taller and wider than a dwarf, but at a slight incline only a few inches to make it unlevel. Not enough to really let someone fall, but perhaps enough to play games with a weak mind.

Nur lay as comfortably as she could, startled by the chill of the metal that suddenly touched her earlobe.

Gamul raised a small hammer above his head. Clank! The pike against her earlobe penetrated the skin and sunk into the wood beneath her head. Clank! One more hit to ensure the solidity of the pike in its hold.

The metal stung her, but Nur remained still, steadying herself with slow breaths and waiting for Gamul to hammer the second pike into her other ear. Two more clanks and Gamul rose, taking in Nur's positioning and nodding to himself.

Nur had often wondered why he didn't take on more female dwarves for training, thinking at first that perhaps he thought lasses were not strong enough for his teachings or that perhaps there was some sort of prejudice there. But after weeks of studying under him, she understood that though he was a hardened warrior there was still a softer part of him he'd kept for himself.

Once, he'd had daughters. They had been taken from him, but that was all she knew and she refused to ask him about it. It was difficult for him to train females because it reminded him too much of his own lasses.

This was one of those times that was most difficult for him. He stood for much longer than he should have, hovering above Nur, almost protectively. But that would diminish the point of the exercise.

"Be well, Nur. I'll be back in one day."

"Two." Nur reminded him firmly. He grinned, stepped over her body, and disappeared down the trail to the entrance of the mountain.

And Nur was left alone.

* * *

** Hey, you ;) Happy Monday. Don't expect this special treatment all the time, but I couldn't resist uploading on a Monday :)**

**Thank you to BlueRiverSteel and SummerAlden for being excellent critics! **

**By the way, I had someone ask when Fili and Nur are going to be reunited- I promise you that it will be soon (we're at chapter 11, it won't be until chapter 15 or 16) but I've gotta give Kili his moments, too ;)**

**More this Friday**


	12. Ch 12 -- Succumb

**Gold and Fire – Chapter 12 – Succumb**

_They say the way your life is made is only stars aligning_

_On you go, the sea's would roll, lonely souls a'pining_

_The great unknown we live and hope the one that fits you right won't pass you by_

_Will we be those who meet and know a love on its sight_

_Or two ships in the night?_

_**Mick Flannery "Ships in the Night"**_

* * *

**youtube .com watch?v=bP8IS3QjsG4 "Ships in the night" Mick Flannery**

Kili found himself in a barrel. It wasn't a prank, it wasn't for a joyride, and it wasn't because he accidentally dropped something to the bottom of it. With a violently rushing river surrounding him, this barrel served as his lifeline.

The croak of wood could be heard when his barrel smacked into his brother's barrel and then the _thunk_ sound of several barrels hitting against each other. Kili found himself suddenly grateful his fingers hadn't been severed as the contact of the barrels jarred them violently together. What was holding them up? With his head finally settling from being jolted, he opened wide eyes to realize they were being blocked by a gate built over the waterline.

Bilbo's rescue of the dwarves had been eagerly waited for, but when the hobbit brought them to the wine cellar and encouraged them to crawl inside of the empty barrels they began to believe he hadn't thought the plan thoroughly through. Still, a bad plan was better than no plan, Kili mused. And how could they have foreseen the barrier the elves had built?

Kili was ready to jump up and throw the guards into the water to get to the lever that would open the gate and release his barrel-riding kin. He had no weapon with which to fend them off, but that did not daunt him when he knew he had strength in his arms.

Something fell over him and nearly pulled him into the water—a guard! Were the elves obliging the dwarves by falling into the water without his assistance? Kili laughed inwardly at his own joke, but frowned when he saw the orc arrow at the back of the guard's head. Orcs?

They had been followed here by the same band of orcs that pursued them before reaching Beorn's house! But he did not see Azog—would it be too much to hope that the white orc had been killed by the eagles?

Kili's head turned—the lever! It was unguarded! The bridge over the water was unguarded and the lever to open the river gate was calling to him loudly.

Raising himself out of the barrel without toppling over, Kili jumped to dry land and ducked as an orc swung its sword at him. And just as it was needed, Dwalin threw a cleaver at the young dwarf, who expertly caught it and sliced at the orc's belly. Kicking him into the river, Kili let his comrades finish the foul creature and took the steps two by two, reaching the top.

Lopping the head off of the next fiend who got in his way, Kili noticed that his brother had thrown a blade at the orc approaching from behind. It was no shame to admit the thrill he felt in knowing his brother was still guarding his back despite the strange layout of the battle.

But just before his hands touched the lever that would release the barrels, Kili felt something bite hard at his thigh and all forward motion stopped.

"Kili!" He heard his brother shout.

If Kili had been made of wood, he would have described the sensation in his leg like an axe splitting wood and splintering at the edges. It stung, it burrowed, it grazed the bone and shook his foundation, it was pulling him down as if with a great weight.

He reached out for the handle anyway and tried to pull it down despite the clawing sensation that meant to drag him to the ground, but it overpowered him when he stretched to use his strength against the lever.

Mahal, it was an arrow in his _leg,_ but it weakened him even to his arms.

He fell backwards, no longer able to resist the downward pull of the injury and feeling as though he was so heavy he might sink into the earth and continue to fall through all the way to its core.

Through eyes squinting with pain, he saw an enemy orc making its way to him and prayed that Mahal would watch over his uncle, his brother, and even the she-elf who had done so much for him while Kili passed into the halls of his fathers—but an arrow soared through the air and brought the orc down.

Glancing to his right, he saw the flow of red hair and the flutter of green fabric. Tauriel.

Kili didn't know how long he lay gaping at her, but it was longer than it should have been and he reminded himself of his purpose. With the elf guarding his way with the cover-fire of arrows, he had a better chance of success than before.

Resisting the pull against stone and dirt, he set his hands on the stairs beside him and used them to tug him upward, rising enough to reach the level. He had little strength, but he realized he didn't need strength to pull the lever downward, he needed the weight that kept threatening to bring him down.

What was working against him he used to his advantage, grasping at the handle and letting gravity do the rest. A satisfying clank was the reply of the gates, now open, allowing his companions to pass through the arch and onward to the roaring river. He rewarded himself by stopping his exertion and dropping to the stone beneath him.

But his reward was not long enjoyed before he heard his name called in panic.

Fili was holding the empty barrel that had served as Kili's boat and was beckoning for him to drop.

Drop. Dropping? _I can do that._

Rolling to his side, he let gravity—his new friend—guide him into the barrel. Apparently, gravity was not so much of a friend as he first thought because it was that same force which broke the arrow shaft against the lip of the barrel.

An animalistic scream might have left his lips, but he didn't have enough breath in his lungs to give it its full potency and settled for an agonized grimace and an inhale of air tinged with water vapor.

* * *

**youtube .com watch?v=iFiNlLt8sJw "Roads untraveled" Linkin Park**

Tauriel saw the arrow in Kili's leg and assured herself that it could have been worse. Of course, that assurance did nothing when she saw him drop himself and sever the arrow shaft on the barrel's ridge. It was a distraction that cost her valuable focus, but thankfully her friend—for though she was beginning to disagree with Legolas and his father about many different things, she knew she could still call Legolas her friend—was guarding her back and made short work of the brute who took advantage of her lapse.

She was about to behead another orc when Legolas stopped her, insisting that the orc be brought to Mirkwood for questioning. Though confused as to what Legolas thought he could get out of the filthy creature, Tauriel complied and accompanied their captive back to the King's halls—though it was her dearest wish to run the shore of the river to guard the brother dwarves from the enemy she knew was still pursuing them.

Thranduil seemed pleased when Legolas and Tauriel brought the orc before him and launched into a speech Tauriel was sure she could do without.

"Such is the nature of evil," Thranduil droned on and Tauriel felt her patience being worn down by her King's habit of waxing poetic even in orc interrogations. It was lost on the foul orc, anyway, she thought.

"Out there in the vast ignorance of the world, it festers and spreads—a shadow that grows in the dark—a sleepless malice as black as the oncoming wall of night."

Legolas looked to be guarding his patience as well, struggling with the enemy who knelt beneath him under the elf's strong hold.

"So it ever was, so will it always be. In time, all foul things come forth."

"You were tracking the company of thirteen dwarves," Legolas hastily added. Only Tauriel could truly have appreciated that it was to prevent Thranduil from speaking on, though in such a way as to hide any disrespect. "Why?"

The black-skinned orc rolled his head around while Legolas' dagger fitted itself tightly against the orc's neck. "Not thirteen," it gargled. "Not anymore. The young one, the black-haired archer, we stuck him with a morghul shaft."

Tauriel hadn't meant to, but the words incited panic inside of her and she unwittingly displayed that concern for only a few moments before regaining control of her features.

Apparently, the orc had seen, because he continued with a jeer. "The poison's in his blood. He'll be choking on it soon."

_Don't let him see_, Tauriel scolded herself. _Don't let any of them see…_ "Answer the question, filth."

"I don't answer to dogs, she-elf."

The ringing sound of a blade escaped her dagger before she truly realized she had brought it out.

"I would not antagonize her," Legolas smirked. He was perhaps the only elf in that realm who had been witness to Tauriel's more devious side and did not reprimand it as harshly as everyone else did—he probably knew it had its uses.

"You like killing things, orc?" She said with a ferocity that even surprised her, but Tauriel had unloosed something vicious when she allowed herself to have sentiment for the dwarf brothers, if not for Kili alone, and that protectiveness surged through her now. "You like death? Then let me give it to you."

She only had enough restraint to keep her blade from severing the head of the orc when King Thranduil stopped her with a word. But she resented that he had told her to stop. The orc had called her a dog and she marked how true that parallel was: Obedient and unquestioning, offering loyalty despite what small regard was given, and an attempt to be enthusiastic about conditions that did not truly make her happy.

And being told to leave did nothing for her spirits when there was already so much dissension inside of her.

"I do not care about one dead dwarf, answer the question." Thranduil said in a mellow tone while Tauriel descended the steps behind her King.

Tauriel could not help but recall the words Fili had spoken to her:

"_All life is sacred." _She had said. _"Race is unimportant."_

"_I'm not so sure your King would agree with that." _Fili had replied.

And Thranduil's words just now—"_I do not care about one dead dwarf"—_had struck her deeply as a confirmation that Fili was right.

Then what were her own sentiments if she was condemned to live out eternity within Thranduil's walls? No matter how she had done away with her prejudice for races, if she did not act then she was no better than Thranduil himself.

Comparing herself to Thranduil had taken on a whole new meaning, now, and it was one she would resist even if it meant being exiled for doing what she believed to be right.

* * *

**youtube .com watch?v=O_pQC_tV3kQ "The Violet Hour" The Civil Wars**

Fili wasn't sure what to make of the situation. As much as he fought against his protective nature for Kili—allowing the younger dwarf some room and recognizing that he couldn't hover over the younger dwarf like a mother hen—something wasn't right. His instincts were screaming at him to check Kili's wound, but he stopped himself. Or at least, he made himself count to a random number to give Kili a moment before barging in and demanding how bad the injury was.

Kili had already pulled out the arrowhead—much to Fili's frustration—and was pressing at the gouge with a piece of torn shirt.

"I'm fine, it's nothing." Fili heard his brother hiss at Bofur, who had already offered assistance to the younger dwarf, and he didn't know what to make of the angry sensation washing over him that he hadn't been the first one to check on Kili.

No more head games, Fili shouted at himself, and finally rushed to Kili's side. "Kili?"

"It's fine." Kili murmured, "I'm fine, leave me alone."

"No, you're not. Let me see it."

"On your feet." Fili heard his uncle command to the others.

"Kili's wounded," the blonde dwarf objected. "His leg needs binding."

"There's an orc-pack on our tail, we keep moving." Thorin's voice rose firmly, but Fili paid him no mind and was already wrapping a piece of his undershirt around Kili's thigh, making as good of a bandage as he could manage with the wet fabric.

"Bind his leg quickly," Thorin said in what sounded like a possessed voice. "You have two minutes."

* * *

**youtube .com watch?v=FTV_sAbZsYs "Upside Down" Gungor**

Tauriel was standing on the rocks overlooking the river and smiling as the breeze smoothed over her face, whispering sweet things to her and brushing through her hair. The open, it was something she loved more than the grand halls Thranduil himself rarely left. She knew that if the path she had chosen called for her to sleep among tree branches, drink from rivers, and nourish herself from whatever the forest offered her, it was worth the price of being alone.

A sound caught her ears and she strung an arrow in one swift movement, turning to face her enemy and interrupting her short communion with nature.

"I thought you were an orc," Tauriel smirked, lowering her bow.

"If I were an orc," Legolas jabbed back, lowering his own. "You'd be dead. Tauriel, you cannot hunt thirty orcs on your own." He sighed in exasperation.

Clearly, he did not understand that this was not her intention, but she wasn't ready to dispute it with him. She also wasn't ready to admit to herself that what she was doing was desertion. "But I am not on my own." She threw him a sly smile.

"You knew I would come?" Legolas wondered aloud. "The King is angry, Tauriel. For six hundred years, my father had protected you—"

_If by "protect" you mean "locked away" then, yes, he has._ She grumbled inwardly. She found it hard to be angry with Legolas, though, in misusing the term when it felt so nice to have the wind on her face, standing free and in the open.

"—favored you. You defied his orders, you betrayed his trust." Legolas drew closer to Tauriel. "Come back with me. He will forgive you."

Fixing her gaze on the Mirkwood Prince, she countered, "But_ I_ will not. If I go back, I will not forgive myself." When she saw his confusion, Tauriel continued. "The King has never let orc filth pass through our lands, yet he would this orc pack cross our borders and kill our prisoners."

"It is not our fight." Legolas interjected, sounding so much like his father that Tauriel's temper rose.

"It _is_ our fight." She insisted. "It will not end here—with every victory this evil will grow," she borrowed a few words the King had used, hoping they would impact Legolas all the more.

But Legolas looked away from her and she finally revealed her true thoughts. "If your father has his way, we will do nothing." She sneered a little. "We will hide within our walls, live our lives away from the light, and let darkness descend."

What would it take to make him understand? Tauriel took in Legolas' stubborn expression and saw that her words had still made no impression. "Are we not part of this world?" She asked meekly, wondering if it was even necessary to say such a thing.

But at last, she recognized something in the elf-Prince's eyes, something that veered toward compassion and a shame that what she said was true.

* * *

Thorin was aware of his nephew's wound, but his patience was wearing thin. Kili had a terrible habit of hiding the severity of his injuries and normally the older dwarf would have dragged it out of him in an interrogation-style confrontation. But Thorin had enough to be concerned with and wouldn't cater to Kili's difficult nature, especially seeing as he was more than a little occupied right now—

—sitting under a mound of fish. He was holding his breath, partly because of the fish and partly because his barrel had just been tapped by someone's hand. To be discovered in his hiding place meant failure despite all they had suffered through.

As if that wasn't enough, Thorin could feel the arkenstone beckoning to him with a painful tug—much like the soreness that would have accompanied the strike of a warhammer against his chest.

It wasn't until he was standing safely before Bard the bargeman's fireplace that he took a steady breath. They had passed by the guard house without incident, scurried through the shadows like thieves, and risen through the latrine into Bard's home.

When the bargeman presented the dwarves with inferior weapons, Thorin's temper had risen to new heights. Had they not suffered enough already? Had they not given everything they owned, every ounce of energy, even their own blood, to get this far? Constantly waylaid, constantly attacked, constantly starving and losing what meager supplies they had gathered…

If they had been further from their destination, Thorin might seriously have considered turning back.

_No!_ The once-sweet voice now spoke with fierce determination. _You are so close. You _must_ come._

_I will_, Thorin mentally assured it. But first he had something he needed to clear up.

Turning to Kili, who sat upon the window seat of Bard's house while clutching at a sledgehammer for support, Thorin crossed his arms. "Kili, let me see it, lad."

"It's fine." Kili said with a shake of his head.

"Kili," The older dwarf furrowed his brow. "Do not lie to me. I need to know I can depend on the able bodies of every dwarf in this company—with no supplies and these pitiful weapons, none of us can be lacking in strength—"

"You can depend on me," His nephew said, probably fighting the accusation of weakness Thorin hadn't meant to imply. Or had he?

Thorin could see Kili hiding his pain, but Thorin could not waste any time coddling his nephew. If the lad said he was well enough to move then he needed to either prove it to be true or fail and deal with the consequences.

"Then we will have you," Thorin said with a firm hand on Kili's shoulder. Even through the layers of fabric, he could feel the chill of the lad's skin. "Go sit by the fire."

* * *

**youtube .com watch?v=gJMhZJjGGrU "Slip Away" Josh Garrels**

Bilbo was certain he had never felt so miserable in his life. Sitting before Bard's fireplace and wrapped in a blanket, the hobbit sniffed and –not for the first time—longed for his faithful armchair back home.

He was encouraged to see Kili coming to sit beside him, though he noticed the dwarf looked out of spirits. Bilbo knew he had every right to be.

"How are you faring?" Bilbo tentatively asked.

"I'm fine." Kili barked, but Bilbo saw Fili roll his eyes and knew it wasn't true. Still, the hobbit had been friends with the younger dwarf long enough to know better than to press it.

"Are we leaving tonight or in the morning?" Bilbo asked after sipping at some hot tea.

Kili looked irritated with the question and didn't answer, but Fili—who came up behind his brother and set a blanket over the dwarf's shoulders—said, "Likely tonight. Why?"

"I was wondering if I could get some sleep." The Halfling yawned.

"Now is as good a time as any," Fili answered, tapping at Kili's shoulder. "You should rest, too."

The wounded archer replied with a guttural phrase in Khuzdul and earned a smack to the back of his head from Fili's hand.

"There are ladies present, lad," Bofur scolded.

"They can't understand dwarvish." Kili croaked, earning another smack.

Bilbo didn't speak dwarvish himself, but he knew that if Kili's words had caused the hardened miner to blush then they must have been pretty bad.

At a stern look from Kili's uncle—which must have meant, "Go lie down or I will wrestle you to the floor with a blanket"—the young dwarf rose and made for the floor of Bard's bedroom.

Apparently, Bilbo was not the only one to think on sleep because Bard and his children had offered their beds and small supply of blankets to a few of Thorin's company already.

"Maybe I don't know him as well as you do, but I've never seen Kili so upset." Bilbo remarked to Fili, who filled the seat his brother had left empty.

"I can vouch for his temper," Fili sighed. "But you _are_ right."

Bilbo knew Fili was having trouble letting his younger brother be, but the hobbit only chalked it up to dwarf stubbornness—Kili was stubbornly trying to prove himself and Fili was being stubbornly protective. He watched as the dwarf lost another battle against that stubbornness when Fili removed himself from the chair and followed Kili's path to the room, sitting on the floor beside the laying form of the archer and reaching out a hand to the dwarf's forehead.

The heavens knew Bilbo felt sick, he couldn't imagine how his wounded friend felt.

He peered over at the brothers again and saw Kili swat Fili's hand away, speaking something angrily in Khuzdul. If Bilbo expected Fili to hit back or shout, he was wrong.

Fili held a patient look of concern and was replying himself in the dwarven language, though it sounded softer and more lulling. Bilbo watched as Fili dared to reach out his hand again, and this time Kili caught it less forcefully and slowly lowered it. Fili continued to soothe the younger dwarf with flowing dwarvish words.

Whatever Thorin's heir was saying, it was offering Kili some sort of solace and calming him to sleep, all while Fili's fingers reached out again to stroke at his brother's hair. He had no doubt his injured companion had finally begun to slumber.

Bilbo took his eyes away, feeling a little guilty for eavesdropping on the tender moment between the siblings, but secretly he was relieved that Fili could wade so patiently through the waves of Kili's irritability.

As the hobbit let his own eyes droop, he found his mind wandering to a thought that would have been unsettling if he had been more awake… he wondered what a dragon looked like in person…

* * *

**youtube .com watch?v=9vocns3YPR8 "Begin" Wailing Jennys**

Thorin stood on the dock which led to the outlet of the lake, handing supplies from a guard to the hands of Dori in the boat just below him.

The dwarves had been discovered late last night in the armory because Kili had stumbled down a set of stairs. Thorin could hardly be upset with Kili for stumbling—in fact, he'd been terrified that his nephew had impaled himself on one of the weapons he was carrying when the lad fell—and Thorin navigated through the politics of the townspeople easily enough.

No, none of these were why Thorin was angry—it was because his nephew had so blatantly lied to him. Furthermore, not being able to trust what the wounded lad said meant that Thorin had to assume the worst. He could not ignore the gleam of sweat on the archer's brow or the pale color of his skin.

An open wound caused by a rusted arrow-head, soaked by a river, patted down with dead fish, and then exposed to the waste of Bard's latrine was certain to become infected—and Thorin could not stand to watch his nephew become worse in the harsh conditions that awaited them in the mountains.

In all probability, Kili wouldn't last past the next morning in his condition. As heart-wrenching as it was, Thorin determined that his nephew stood a better chance of surviving if he stayed behind in Laketown. He knew Kili and his brother would object, would cling to any hope they could see in their uncle's eyes or hear in his voice, so he must remain firm—he must keep his expression stony and his voice tight.

"Not you," Thorin reached out a hand to stop Kili from entering the boat. "We must travel at speed, you will slow us down." It sounded like a heartless thing to say, but it was partly true. They had already lost so much time, and Thorin was constantly being reminded of this by the voice that beckoned him from the mountain.

"What are you talking about?" Kili smirked, as though he expected Thorin to admit he was joking. "I'm coming with you."

"No." Thorin said simply, keeping his answer short. He was doing his best to remain firm, but the lad's expression was breaking his heart and weakening his will. And he knew that if he looked at Fili's expression—which he was sure was one of disbelief—he would begin to question his decision further. _He won't survive_, Thorin reminded himself_, if he comes with us._

"I'm going to be there when that door is opened." Kili said in what Thorin saw as an attempt to assert himself, but the lad's voice was weak and trembling. "When we first look upon the halls of our fathers, Thorin—"

Thorin reached out a hand to Kili's shoulder. "Kili," He drew his nephew closer, willing his face to remain still and stony. "Stay here. Rest." And passing his hand over the lad's head in what he hoped Kili understood was a comforting touch. "Join us when you're healed."

Incredulous was the face Kili wore, eyebrows pulled together, a grimace making lines on his cheekbones, and mouth open as though it had forgotten how to anchor itself. Betrayal. That's what Kili's face said.

_But it isn't betrayal_, Thorin wanted to cry out, _I'm saving your life!_ And he turned away, knowing that his resolve wouldn't hold as long as he was gazing at his nephew's look of hurt.

"Oin," Thorin whispered to their physician. "Help him, please…"

"I'll stay with the lad," Oin answered, brushing off the surprised looks of the others with a wave of his hand and the explanation: "My duty lies with the wounded."

"Uncle," Thorin heard Fili address him and he groaned inwardly, knowing that Fili hadn't understood. "We grew up on tales of the mountain, tales you told us." His heir implored him. "You cannot take that away from him."

"Fili…" His brother grumbled. Kili lurched away from Oin's touch, brushing off the physician.

"I will carry him if I must!" The blonde dwarf offered in determination.

Didn't Fili comprehend that Thorin was saving Kili from getting worse? Only if he said it aloud, he'd be met with objections, with concessions—he didn't doubt their physician could have made a gurney for Kili if it had been necessary, along with whatever else the injured lad needed, but it would have cost him time he didn't have! No, this was the only way…

"One day you will be King and you will understand." Thorin said. "I cannot risk the fate of this quest for the sake of one dwarf. Not even my own kin."

"I said I'm fine!" Kili moaned to Oin, who had begun to prod the lad's leg.

Thorin watched as Fili fixed a stern eye on his brother and then his uncle, back and forth, and then stepped out of the boat.

"Fili, don't be a fool," Thorin pulled at Fili's elbow. "You belong with the company."

Fili stepped forward, close to his uncle's face and uttered in a strong voice, "I belong with my _brother_," before pulling away from Thorin's grip and planting himself defiantly beside Kili.

* * *

**youtube .com watch?v=STWqRskxxyY "What Was Found" Peter Broderick**

It was inside him—every vein, every muscle, under his fingernails, and sneaking into his inner ear. Kili didn't know what it was, but he felt a bit like a mountain with a gold vein running through him with hundreds of miners working away at every part of him.

"Fili?" He moaned weakly, clenching his jaw and pressing his eyes tightly together, his head rolling back as he was carried by his arms. He didn't know where he was, he didn't know who was touching him, and he couldn't have brought himself to care.

"Fili, please!" He didn't know what he was asking for; he only knew that he was no longer ashamed to ask for help. He'd tried to endure the pain quietly, tried to do it on his own, but now he was done.

"Kili, we're almost there, just hold on a moment longer."

Almost where? Kili asked himself for a moment, but then returned to not caring about anything but the seizing of his limbs and the fluidic molten gold running through his veins. The hundreds of miners were working furiously to tap into it and scrape it out.

"Please, forgive me," Kili groaned, thinking that perhaps the miners in his body might let up if he admitted to acting harshly to Fili beforehand. But they didn't, they kept right on mining his blood.

"Already forgiven," Kili heard as though it were far off.

His tongue fell asleep, otherwise he would have said more, and a prickling sensation began in his lips. Kili heard his brother talking to someone and then the familiar voice of Bard, letting them into his home once again, and the distant feel of hands scooping him up and lowering him to the bed.

It might as well have been a box of biting vipers for all Kili could tell, so stinging and pressing was the horrible sensation running from his leg to the rest of his body.

"Fili!" Kili just about screamed in agony, but he couldn't take in enough air to get much volume. "I'm sorry for what I said; don't leave me, I need you!" At least, this is what he was trying to say, but it was muffled by his numbed lips and swelling tongue.

"I'm here, nadadith." He felt the breath from Fili's lips whoosh against his ear.

But then the miners found molten mithril mixed in with the gold and began digging in earnest and Kili could hear nothing else as he cried out.

* * *

** Please review and make my day :)**

**Special thank you to BlueRiverSteel and SummerAlden for edits!**


	13. Ch 13 -- Helpless

**Gold and Fire – Chapter 13 – Helpless**

_My heart a pilgrim, my mind a slave_

_My eyes can't stand to see the light of day_

_cause life is lost without love, wouldn't you say?_

_**Roo Panes "Silver Moon"**_

* * *

**youtube watch?v=L4_30irYkBQ "I See Fire" Drew Chadwick**

Fili was sorting through bandages and medicine with Bofur and Oin, desperately searching for something to bring Kili's fever down—they'd only noticed on the dock that Kili's skin was burning, and it wasn't until they'd reached Bard's house to ask for help that Kili started moaning and crying in pain, which rose gradually until all of them were clapping their hands over their ears to block out the shrill cries.

But now came the murmurs. Worn out from screaming, Kili continued to moan, but the raw moans came with words that didn't make any sense. As much as Fili tried to calm his younger brother with an outward appearance of strength, inwardly he was frightened.

"Bifur," Kili chuckled from the bed just behind him.

"Bifur?" Fili wondered aloud.

Kili nodded weakly from the pillow, a bead of sweat dripping down his brow. "He's got an axe in his head. And Uncle didn't think _he_ was slowing us down."

Fili turned now, realizing he was only getting in the way of the other dwarves while they searched through the medicines Bard had offered them. "What?"

"And Ori," Kili shook his head, grinning like an idiot and laughing. "He's got a slingshot—a slingshot!—and he's not much good with it."

"Kili, stop." Fili begged, wiping away the moisture from his brother's forehead, but another bead surfaced a moment later.

"And Uncle didn't think Ori was slowing us down." Kili's lip quivered. He'd gone from laughing to crying all in a few seconds.

"It's the fever," Oin called from behind the brothers.

"You don't know what you're saying." Fili said in a voice that sounded just as desperate as he felt. "Our uncle knew you were sick—he wanted you to stay and get better."

"He hates me." Kili moaned and a tear rolled from his eye and combined with a trickle of perspiration. "And you hate me. Even that she-elf back in Mirkwood hates me."

"You're being ridiculous." Fili shook his head, not knowing what he could say to combat his brother's ramblings, not even knowing how to soothe the younger dwarf. But then a thought…

"Nur doesn't hate you."

Kili turned his head ever so slightly to peer at the blond dwarf above his face.

"Mahal, Kili, if you're set on believing I don't love you, then so be it, you fool." Fili scowled, hoping to strike a chord. "But there are two dwarves in this world you can't possibly question the love of: our mother and Nur."

* * *

**youtube watch?v=jPXhabT0QqA "Silver Moon" Roo Panes**

"I see you've come back from the rings with your sanity intact," Nur heard the healer lass say. "That is proof of a strong mind."

Nur shrugged. "I thought you weren't allowed to visit the students." She was enjoying one of the few moments of peace she could take advantage of in the Akkik—two hours before the sun rose and the trainees were meant to assemble in that same area, Nur was sitting on the edge of the rock cliff with her legs dangling in the air.

The medic sat down beside the warrior-in-training and Merag brought her arms around her bent knees and rested her chin on her shoulder. "Today is your last day of training and tomorrow they see you off. I don't think they'll raise a fuss about it."

Nur knew her friend was waiting for a reply, but couldn't summon one, merely grunting. Merag did not seem daunted by the grim atmosphere that surrounded Nur and part of her was grateful that the healer was so diligent to pull her out of her silent temper.

"I'm assuming there's going to be some sort of talk between you and the King when he sees you tomorrow..."

The corner of Nur's lip pulled into a half-grin. "Is that what you and Dul have been talking about behind closed doors?"

"He's worried about you." Merag said protectively. "I'm worried about you. And I know that if your husband were here, he'd be worried about you, too—but since he's not, it's _our_ job to keep you moving on the right path."

With a heavy sigh, Nur relented and shared her fearful thoughts, "There's so much at stake, so many tasks to do, and I've done my best to become strong enough to handle them, but… I feel like there are such _mountainous_ things happening and I am too small to do anything about it."

"You're fighting for control when you can't have it." Merag said in a soft voice while she placed a gentle hand on Nur's shoulder. "Isn't that what some of your training has taught you? You can't be prepared for everything, so it's best to react to things _after_ they've happened instead of worrying about them _before_ they do. And most of the time, the things we think we've prepared for never happen anyway."

Nur nodded. Dul had already had this talk with her, but it was comforting to hear it from another companion—someone she knew she could trust and truly cared for. She never thought she would become friends with the medic, but the healer had worked her way into Nur's heart and she thanked Mahal daily for the lass. Especially since the healer had worked so diligently to find Fili's last few letters—one of which she was now handing to the surprised Nur.

"And the thing about dwarves," Merag said with a hint of mirth in her eye, "is that we may be small," she pointed to a towering statue carved into distant hill, "but we can do tremendous things with mountains."

* * *

**youtube watch?v=J-9IK02qkZc "All the Wild Horses" Ray Lamontagne**

_No more. Please, no more._

Kili was tired of fighting, tired of resisting—the vapor dulling his senses had become unbearable and was unlocking and unraveling his thoughts before him, tempting him to surrender.

_Everyone hates me. There's no point. No point anymore. Why let it go on? Why not just be done with it?_

He hated the thought of giving up, of letting something else control his body, but the foe was just too strong. He would succumb sooner or later, against his will. At least if he chose to give up now, it would be done that much quicker.

What was that crashing noise? Was it his heart against his ribcage or was the ceiling above him?

Kili opened his eyes, realizing his second guess was right.

As if the cold thing inside of him had summoned an outside physical torment, an orc came rushing at the wounded dwarf, grabbing at his injured leg to keep him from escaping its clutches and raising a cruel, jagged blade above its head. Kili only had enough sense to kick at the orc with his other leg, gathering what strength he had and routing it to the heel of his foot. Clenching his teeth at the effort and watching the orc stumble back, he looked wildly about him, knowing that he needed a weapon if he was to overtake his foe, let alone survive another attack.

He was rewarded with a knife from the side-table beside the bed and lunged at the orc before it could make another move against him, plunging the weapon into its ribs and twisting it to cause as much damage as he could manage in his weakened state.

But the cold thing had begun to grip him again; seizing its opportunity to claw tighter at his inner organs and making his knees buckle as the orc fell beside him, dead. He knew he was crying out, but the throb of his heart filled his ears and blocked out every other sound.

There were hands holding him and the thing that was controlling his mind did not like that. It did not want to be confined. He felt his limbs working but did not have the ability to rein them in.

Kili wasn't his own anymore. He belonged to something dark. Something sinister. Something—

Elvish. Those were elvish words being spoken. His brother didn't speak elvish, neither did Oin or Bofur. That was a lass' voice. Whoever was speaking was also driving away the presence of evil—the dark thing shuddered away from the growing light surrounding the speaker. Who was Kili looking at?

He started regaining control over his body, including his eyes. An elf, that's what he was looking at.

So strong was the illumination of this elf that he was sure he was looking into the sun, and the beams of light seemed to attack the chilling sensation that had been creeping through his veins. His leg still hurt, but the cold, creeping substance was no longer filling his veins or halting his blood.

Coming to his senses, Kili heard the words stop flowing and the color of the room returned while the light behind the elf faded.

Someone else was touching him. Brother. His brother was standing beside him, holding his shoulder down, though releasing the strong grip as Kili loosened beneath the dwarf's hands.

"Fili?" Kili muttered weakly, eyes straining to glance at the blonde dwarf. "Do you hate me, Fili?" He was unable to shake the lingering doubt that had so strongly plagued his mind earlier—a doubt that had cornered him into accepting a way to run from his grief.

"Kili, I love you." He heard his older brother speak. "I could never hate you."

Kili felt the pat on his shoulder and then the absence of his sibling as someone began to bind the wound on his leg.

The elf. In that brief moment with his brother, Kili had forgotten to thank the elf. Who _was_ this mystery savior anyway?

Turning his head, his eyes went wide.

"Tauriel?" He couldn't believe it. The same she-elf who had offered him solace after the spider attack in Mirkwood? That same person who had come to his rescue when the barrels were trapped? She seemed to be everywhere; it was inconceivable that she could be here now. "You cannot be her."

The tugging on his leg continued as she tied the bandage, confusion heavy on her face.

It really couldn't be her, he tried to convince himself. It didn't make any sense—why would she be here? He supposed his mind was playing tricks on him.

"She is far away." He reminded himself. Tauriel was all the way back in Mirkwood, not here. "She is far, far away from me."

Besides, he reasoned, Tauriel had no desire to be where he was—he was set for the mountain, for the comfort of resounding walls built under stone which towered high above and nestled deep below. Tauriel had no love for those things, but was impassioned by the stars. Yes, _that's_ where she was.

"She walks in starlight in another world."

No. This could not be Tauriel. Kili had allowed himself to believe that it was. Probably wishful thinking on his part—he could easily admit in this state that he had become friends with the elf.

"It was just a dream." He reassured himself. He'd been dreaming of Tauriel and mistaken this elf for her. That's all it was.

But… he had so _wanted_ it to be her. He wondered if this elf knew Tauriel, if perhaps they could relay a message to the red-headed elf—he had so much to thank her for and hadn't even given her a proper goodbye.

He held up a hand to try and get the elf's attention, his eyes blurry and stopping him from being able to see if the elf was looking at him. Remembering the sensation of feeling as though everyone hated him, he wondered if the elf-maiden, Tauriel, was included in it… _I love you, I could never hate you,_ Fili had said. The reverse of hate was love, wasn't it?

"Do you think she could have loved me?" Kili asked, remembering Fili's reply when he'd asked if his brother hated him.

"You are not fully awake, are you?" The elf smirked, squeezing his hand and setting it down. "Open your eyes and ask her yourself."

Her voice startled him into reality, bringing him back to lucid awareness. "I guess I wasn't dreaming, was I?" He asked with a little embarrassment. "What are you doing here?"

"I saved your life… for the third time."

"If you hadn't noticed," he smirked with twitching lips, "I did a bit of saving _your_ life a while back."

"Oh?" Tauriel quirked an eyebrow. "Was it in any danger?" But she stopped her banter when Fili returned with a mug of something dark and hot.

With a hand under Kili's head, Fili lifted the cup to the younger dwarf's lips. Kili didn't need to be told twice to drink—he didn't need to be told at all—when he realized what it was.

Gulping down the hot contents of the cup, Kili felt his limbs invigorated. "Tea—I wish I'd had that a few hours ago."

He jerked himself up to sit and instantly felt three sets of hands on him.

"Lie still!" Tauriel said with her grip on his shoulder.

"What do you think you're doing, lad?" Oin said with his hands on Kili's legs.

"Please, just listen, for once." Fili begged with his hands on Kili's other shoulder.

Kili felt himself shoved back down on the table and grumbled. "I have been lying helpless for long enough. I'm aching to stand, especially since that tea is bringing life back into my veins."

But a rumble and a roar caused the occupants of Bard's kitchen to look to the window and Kili took advantage of the moment, jumping down from the table and peering through the window himself.

He felt Fili's eyes on him and heard his brother whisper to Oin, "_What_ did you put in that tea?"

"I didn't know how potent it would be so I made it triple strength." Oin muttered. Kili saw the physician shrug and let out a hearty laugh. "At the rate it's affecting him, we could all pile onto his back and have him carry us to the mountain!"

"By the Valar…" He heard Tauriel whisper. Glancing up at her, he saw that her keen elf eyes had spotted the dragon in the distance—what else could have captivated her with such fear and awe?

"We need to get out of here," Fili murmured.

Quicker than any of them had anticipated, the darkness of night was pushed away by a light so brilliant it could only have been a blast of fire from the dragon's jaws. The glide of the monster's wings brought an airy sound like the low call of a horn and the kitchen in which they stood trembled and creaked.

With a whine and a sound of splintering wood, the floorboards of Bard's home gave out beneath their feet.

* * *

**Happy Friday, ya'll ;) Sorry about the cliffhanger, but you only have to wait until Monday to see it resolved.**

**Thank you BlueRiverSteel and SummerAlden for edits (I seriously don't know where my brain is sometimes)**

**Please leave me a review- even if it just says, "Okay"**


	14. Ch 14 -- Gold and Fire

**Gold and Fire – Chapter 14 – Gold and Fire**

_Waging war cause I want peace_

_Making chains to make me free_

_All this screaming in my head_

_I'll be free or I'll be dead_

_**-Gungor "Burn It Down"**_

* * *

** watch?v=uco1JQRVqrA "Staying Up" The Neighbourhood **

One moment, Kili was standing in Bard's kitchen, straining to see through the window, and the next he was falling through the creaking floorboards that gave way beneath him to a watery foundation.

He landed on his backside against a piece of wood that sunk no lower than a few inches, supported by something firm beneath it and keeping Kili from sinking further than his waist.

The impact jarred the dwarf and he groaned as he cupped his sore jaw, grateful that his tongue hadn't been in the way when his teeth had clapped together.

Tilda was sputtering in the water just a few feet from him and he lunged in after her, pulling her head above the surface by her collar. He expected he should feel winded at the least, but whatever Oin had given him in that tea was lending him strength and speed.

"Tilda!" Kili heard from above.

Looking up, he could see a starry night and fragments of broken wood— half the house had shifted, pulling apart from the other half, and fallen into the water while the standing half stayed firmly where it was. The dragon fire had completely razed a handful of structures, causing the neighboring ones to waver and falter.

"Kili," Fili called from above. "Pass us Tilda."

Obeying Fili's instructions and wading to the wooded platform he'd landed on, he lifted Tilda by the waist and steadied her with a hand while she stood, her hands outstretched to her sister's lowered arms. Once they pulled her up, Kili locked eyes with his brother. "Where's Tauriel?"

Fili looked over his shoulder and shook his head. "I think she fell with you and Tilda."

Their landscape was moving again; the support which had held out for Bard's kitchen threatened to wobble.

"Get out of there!" Kili shouted to them, waving his hand.

"What about you?" His brother called over the edge as Bofur ushered Bard's children and Oin through the house' remaining front door.

"I'm going to look for the elf." Kili said as he prepared to jump into the water again.

"Wait!" Fili hollered.

"Don't try to stop me, Fee—she's here somewhere and—"

"I wasn't going to stop you." Fili replied, glancing after Bofur who had just stepped out the door. "The shore, the entrance to the bridge of Laketown," He pointed at the land in the distance. "That's where we'll rendezvous with you."

Kili grinned. "You're really not going to stop me?"

"I wouldn't say you have everything well in hand," Fili smirked, peering at the burning buildings in the distance and the waves rippling through the water, "but you asked me to start trusting you…"

"Mahal, Fee," Kili shook his head, preparing once more to dive into the pool. "Of all the times and places—" And with that, he launched himself into the water.

He wasn't sure what he expected to find, but it was much darker than he anticipated and after a few strokes through the water his head bumped against something hard and he knew he was swimming blind. Surfacing for a quick gulp of air before plunging in again, he tried again to adjust to the darkness of the water, but was met with little success. Popping his head above the surface, he looked around and called Tauriel's name.

He heard screams in the distance and glanced behind him at the burning buildings, almost losing his sense of direction entirely when a board appeared from above him to splash into the water beside him. It crashed straight into the top of a submerged structure covered by roof shingles, breaking a large hole through the top.

Fortunately for Kili, that new hole exposed the inside of the wet building, and a struggling elf inside of it.

"Tauriel!" He called in relief and paddled to it.

Tauriel had become trapped under the ceiling of a room with the heavy roof over it so that there was no way for her to climb out and no way for her to swim under. It was mere chance that the beam overhead had created an opening and Kili made sure to thank Mahal for such a chance.

"Tauriel," he said her name again, reaching his head through the hole. "Are you hurt?"

"No," sputtered the angry elf, "but my foot is caught and I cannot free it." The water level reached to her chin, causing her head to bump against the ceiling, but not cutting off her ability to breathe.

"Not to worry," Kili grunted, pulling himself through the hole that was just big enough to allow his small form through.

"Stay out!" She objected. "You're wounded, you shouldn't be exerting yourself."

Kili made sure she was looking at him to see him roll his eyes. "I didn't have much of a choice—and you're a brilliant physician, so it's hardly painful."

"That cannot possibly be true," Tauriel said with a raised brow.

"Doesn't matter much, does it? We have to get you out of this room before it sinks." Kili did his best to look down at her leg through the surface of the water, but couldn't see much. "Which foot?"

"The left."

Taking in a deep breath, Kili lowered himself into the water and reached out his hands. He knew it was awkward, probably mortifying for the elf when he came into contact with her, but there wasn't much they could do about it if she wanted to live.

Feeling her knee and moving downward, he could sense rather than see the cabinets that had rearranged themselves against her foot, probably crushing it. Fortunate for both of them, he was able to gain some leverage and with dwarven strength pulled the cabinets away to free her foot.

Bringing his head to the surface again, he gasped for air and wiped the water from his eyes. "That wasn't—as bad—as I thought it would be."

"You have got to be joking," he heard her grumble. But the words weren't meant for him; Tauriel was now struggling against something else.

"What's wrong?" Kili said, pulling at her arm and trying to drag her to the hole, but their bodies stopped when she jerked back.

Glancing over his shoulder, he realized her head was tilted back and he let go of her arm.

"My _hair_ is stuck," Tauriel whispered in agitation with closed eyes.

Kili groaned. "Give me your dagger."

Her eyes became wide. "I will not."

"Well, then _you_ can do it, just do it fast." He said, rubbing a wet hand over his face and keeping himself afloat with a hand on the lip of the hole.

"I will not." She repeated, biting her lip, though she said it with less determination than before.

"Mahal, lass…" They were both suddenly interrupted by the squeak of wood and the roar of a dragon.

Before either of them could react, the sky filled with Smaug's terrible form and the beast opened wide a mouth full of fire.

Moving quickly, Kili reached out a hand to Tauriel's head, shoving it under before submerging himself and pulling her torso against his under the water. He looked upward just in time to see flames erupting through the hole; the dragon had unleased an all-encompassing wave of flame, filing the sky with bright light, illuminating their hiding place. When the fiery blast ended, the ceiling slowly burned with embers and small tongues of fire.

If Tauriel was uncomfortable with Kili's embrace, she didn't show it, in fact she moved closer into it, gazing up at the surface of the water with him.

After a while, Kili's lungs grew uncomfortable with the strain and he dared to poke his head above the surface. He gasped in a breath of thick heat—the air was being stolen by the glowing orange of the ceiling and roof—and he knew it was a matter of time before the whole thing fell down over them, cutting off their exit.

He pulled Tauriel up by her arm, waiting for her to surface and take a breath. When she did, he looked at her apologetically and ducked below the water again.

Unsheathing a dagger from its place on her lower back, Kili sliced the blade at the lower ends of her hair. Honestly, it was only a few inches, he mused, and his brother's wife, Nur, had seen much worse! Nur's hair had been burnt off just below her jawline and Kili was secretly relieved that his own lady's hair hadn't suffered a mishap like that.

Wait… did he just internally refer to the she-elf as _his lady_? Where had _that_ thought come from?

A hand on his collar pulled him up to the surface and Kili thought for a moment that he was going to be at the receiving end of some elvish curse words—if those even existed—but he realized when he saw Tauriel's face that she only meant to hasten their escape.

The ceiling was beginning to cave in.

* * *

** watch?v=mGVjFf8hJXs "Burn It Down" Gungor**

It amused the dragon when the people of Laketown scattered over their bridges and boats, scrambling to get away from his blasts of fire.

It even amused Smaug when the boats began to make for the shoreline.

But what wasn't amusing was the few brave souls who had managed to climb to high towers and were tossing spears and shooting arrows his way. The weapons couldn't possibly hurt him, couldn't possibly penetrate his magnificent armor, but he hated the idea that they still had some sentiment of hope. Hope meant they didn't regard him as a terror, didn't yield to the majestic horror of his strong jaws and large wingspan. But their bravery only made them enticing targets for his hunger.

He had only cut a path of fire through Laketown twice, but it was enough to interrupt the integrity of the buildings—those which didn't burn were falling from the lack of support of the other buildings—and he set aside his ambitions to char the dwellings for a better purpose. Scooping low and grazing a steeple-structure with his belly, Smaug opened wide and devoured whole one of the soldiers with spears.

The fellow was hardly satisfying, though, and Smaug purposed to catch himself another morsel with the next pass he was able to make.

If he had thought on it much, Smaug might have realized that his size and the amount of room he needed to glide and turn again towards Laketown was a time-consuming effort—a liability. But what could the townspeople do? Their screams proved they had no faith in the ones who wielded black arrows—as they had used in the past—and so the thought of any weakness was irrelevant.

Narrowing his vision to his next victim, Smaug opened his mouth again—

Pain! Where? Something gnawed at him, was reaching into him and biting… his wings faltered a moment while he assessed what had struck him so deeply, but he reacted too late and careened into a tower, spinning his body to the side and into the cold water.

His body was much too heavy to pull to the surface and he felt his wings sinking below the water line as he feebly tried to bring them up.

Futile, he thought, he was already sinking too much and his blood was streaming out of him from the sharp thing in his belly… He resisted the sinking sensation for a few moments, raising his nostrils above the waterline, if only for a second, and taking in a breath of air.

Smaug savored it, knowing it would be his last.

* * *

** watch?v=w3tXC4Wz1vs "Down to the Sea" Elephant Revival**

Nur only half-listened to Gamul as he paced in front of the few students who had completed their training in the Akkik.

"If you think I am going to hand you some sort of document proving you finished, you're mistaken." Gamul said with slow steps. "By now it will be apparent to everyone what you've undergone, so much so that they will recognize it on sight. However, there is a time-honored tradition you may partake in, should you choose."

He held out a hand to welcome a withered, wrinkled dwarf with few tufts of white hair left on his freckled head.

"This is Maurk, Son of Moak, and the most gifted of sketch artists the Iron Hills—or any kingdom of middle earth." Gamul rested a light hand on the ancient dwarf's shoulder. Maurk seemed pleased with the words and his cheeks reddened with a blush.

Nur blinked. What did they need a sketch artist for?

"In the many years we have done this, however, none have declined the honor of being marked by the honorable Maurk." Gamul said, pulling up his sleeve to reveal a tattoo on his bicep. Nur had seen the tattoo before, but had never questioned its significance as the trainer had more than one.

Tattoos. That was their parting gift. If Nur had been offered something like this a year ago, she might have balked, but with everything they had gone through—desensitized as they were—she found her thoughts trailing to what symbol she wanted to display on her skin.

"I'm finally allowed to say how proud I am of you." Gamul's tone softened and he looked each of the graduated trainees in the eye as he walked in front of them again. "This has been one of the harder years of training. You have endured much. And you have become so strong." The words were simple, but coming from her instructor, Nur treasured them more than anyone else's praise.

Gamul was a perfectionist and required those under him to adopt the same characteristic. He never softened a blow, never soothed with kind words when discipline was needed, and always said exactly what he thought. It startled Nur when she realized what an excellent father he would have made and wondered what it would have felt like to be his daughter. She loved her father, certainly, but the dwarf pacing in front of her inspired something her want to be so much better than she was.

"Mahal's blessings." He nodded at them with his hands clasped behind his back. With just as slow steps as the ones he'd taken in front of their line, he headed for the door to the inner compound and left them standing before the tattoo artist. A few of them looked at each other. That was _it_? They were released, just like that?

"Good morning, excellent ones." The old dwarf croaked, diverting their attention and hefting a small wooden box beside him. "Who will be the honorable first?"

For the second time, the few students looked at each other. A permanent mark was about to be added to their bodies, didn't that require a little bit of time to think on?

Sensing their thoughts, the tattoo artist chuckled. "When in doubt, an animal is perhaps the safest idea."

Much to Nur's surprise, Dul stepped forward and stood before the old dwarf. "Where do we do this?"

"I have sturdy ground beneath my feet; this is as good a place as any." The artist smirked. As the two began to discuss what it was Dul wanted, the rest of the students dispersed—some sitting on boulders nearby and others grouping together to talk. Nur closed the distance between her and Dul, wondering what it was the much larger dwarf intended on marking his body with. He had already removed his shirt and the artist leaned over his box to open it and retrieve a marking needle.

Nur might have expected the artist's hands to shake—he was old and feeble, looking ready to fall over at any moment—but with pen in hand, the old dwarf's body became steady and firm, planted where he was while the only movement was his arms and the twitch of his nose.

Placing one hand on Dul's chest, the other hand moved over the muscled graduate's breast, just where his heart would be. Both Nur and Dul watched the flowing lines of the pen with interest. She wasn't sure why, but Nur didn't want to _ask_ Dul what he'd chosen; she wanted to see the answer for herself. After a few moments—the speed of the tattoo artist was incredible!—she began to see roughly what the sketch was turning into.

"A sparrow?" Nur's eyebrows raised.

"Aye," Dul answered in a short reply. Nur could see his cheeks flush.

"I don't think I would have expected that from you." Nur said, trying to suppress her grin. "What does it mean?"

Dul turned a bright shade of red and muttered something about telling her later. He didn't seem ashamed of the little bird which intricately rested on his pectoral muscle, but there was a hint of overprotectiveness in his expression.

"There." The artist said while bending over to retrieve a bandage. "Keep it covered for an hour or so—to keep it from smudging—and oil it for the next few days. It was a pleasure to mark you, master warrior."

"Dul! Nur!" They heard from behind. A widely smiling Merag was approaching them, arms wide as she pulled Nur into a firm embrace. "Congratulations." And turning to the artist, she said, "Hello, Maurk."

"Hello, sparrow." The tattoo artist winked at her.

Sparrow? Merag? Nur was putting the pieces together when Dul pulled away at the patch on his chest to show Merag the tattoo over his muscle and Merag's response was—

"Not here, I have other work to do." Maurk humbled, waving them away with his hands when the two came together for a brief kiss.

Trying to relax her shocked eyes, Nur shook her head and smiled to herself. She should have known the two couldn't resist each other…

The medic turned to Nur, tugging at her sleeve and asking, "Do you know what you're going to get?"

Nur blew out a little breath of air. "I think so… but it may take more time than Dul's."

"That depends on how detailed you'd like to have it," replied the artist. "I remember a student who asked me to tattoo his head and then wasn't willing to sit through it all."

"That might have been my cousin." Dul smirked from behind the lasses.

When Nur described what she wanted, she was asked to wait while the other few students were marked before her. They all requested simple things, the artist finishing quickly with each, but he laughed, telling them they would be back for more later. They always did, he said.

"Now for you," Maurk called to Nur. "You'll want to be sitting, lass, this is going to take a while."

One hour later and the tattoo artist's hands were beginning to shake, but he was nearly finished with his work and stepped back to admire it.

From her left shoulder and down her collar bone was a roaring lion with claws outstretched. From her right shoulder and down her other collar bone was a snarling wolf in mid-run. Pale skin separated the paws of the wolf from the claws of the lion by a few inches, and the lines were waving and flowing in a tribal pattern.

"What is the wolf for?" Merag asked, eyes wide in awe at the size and intricacy of the marks.

"The wolf is one of my greatest friends," Nur beamed. "Prince Kili."

Dul nodded with a half-grin, understanding immediately who the lion was.

* * *

** watch?v=SxkLxo-yVKs "Find Me" Gungor**

"At last," Thorin breathed, shutting his eyes and releasing the sigh of relief.

His incessant need for the arkenstone had grown to an increasingly painful grip in his chest and the only thing that could soothe it was immersing himself in heaps of gold coins in the treasury. Here, the voice—which revealed itself to be the gold—would soothe his ache and breathe seductive words of belonging.

Thorin admitted to himself that he had willpower enough to resist the words and confess his gold-sickness aloud, but… he didn't _want_ to. What the whispering gold had said to him before still rang true: it would never leave him, never perish, never die. After a lifetime of grief and heaviness the lure of those promises and the sensation of peace that washed over him at the touch of the gold was enough to make him forsake all else.

The arkenstone still pulled at his heart, but the gold eased the pain, and what better way to rid himself of the pain entirely than immersing himself in the mounds of treasure to search for the stone? Though his companions did not suffer the same unrest as Thorin in being parted from the jewel, they understood it to be an imperative find and offered their help willingly to search for it.

It was a few hours later that Thorin was listening to Bilbo worry about other things while he and a few other dwarves raked their fingers through the gold coins of the vault.

"We've got to do something!" Bilbo said as he paced a stone platform above them.

"Master hobbit, we _are_ doing something." Dwalin grumbled with a short glance at Thorin.

"I mean about the people of Laketown," The hobbit moaned, dropping himself to sit on the edge of the platform, pulling his fingers through his hair and grimacing at Thorin. "Don't you care what we've done to them?"

Thorin could easily have let the comment pass without anger—just being immersed in the gold was causing him a small reprieve from his painful need for his grandfather's jewel—but he was already about to ask Bilbo to help them look anyway. "The ruin of Laketown would have happened with or without our influence. Without the arkenstone, we can do nothing to help them."

"Is it really all that important?" Bilbo asked in a small voice. "So important that we have put lives in danger for it?"

"Do you not understand, Bilbo?" Thorin fully turned to the hobbit now. "With the stone we can unite the dwarves and with them the armies to come against the dragon. Such a terrible foe can be overcome only with great force—Laketown has sacrificed their lives with honor and we must take care that it was not done in vain. If you would assist us in combing through the gold," he said the word with reverence, as though it were something soothing to him, "we may be able to redeem that cost."

"Redeem that—? Have you gone _mad_?" Bilbo shouted, rising to his feet. Dwalin touched the handle of his weapon, but Thorin shook his head at the warrior. "Sacrifice would mean they knew what they were getting into—I don't think they would have agreed to help us if they knew they would die as a distraction so you could find your grandfather's lost jewel!"

"Do not be so bold, laddie," Dwalin growled, "to speak to the King in that way."

"King of what? Stone walls and a pile of treasure?" The hobbit sputtered. Clearly, he was getting in over his head and not backing down, but Thorin cringed at Bilbo's reference to the gold as a "pile". Something about it seemed wrong, as though Bilbo had besmirched a loved one.

"Master Baggins," Thorin said with a controlled fury. "Either you will help us to look for the arkenstone or you will excuse yourself to the inner rooms to grumble at your leisure."

All eyes were on Thorin and Bilbo, waiting for a reaction from either of them, but Thorin only stood glaring at the hobbit while Bilbo cowered under the gaze and moved his feet slowly to remove himself from the room.

* * *

** Happy Monday, all! Our story is picking up speed, but I'm pretty sure I'll only be able to release one chapter this weekend and not two like last week.**

**Please comment on the writing style- still experimenting with it and would love a little criticism! **

**Thank you to beta readers BlueRiverSteel and SummerAlden!**


	15. Ch 15 -- Reuniting

**Gold and Fire – Chapter 15 – Reuniting**

**youtube watch?v=EPng8o3zDqM "Through the Dark" Alexi Murdoch**

Tauriel breathed as steadily as she could while swimming with a dwarf in tow and sighed out a prayer of thanks when Kili's brother gave a shout and swam toward them. They were not far from shore, but Tauriel was struggling to keep the head of her heavy companion above water.

The blonde dwarf linked his arm around the arm of his brother.

"I never thought I'd be so happy to see an elf," Fili laughed weakly, waving his free hand through the water, helping Tauriel to pull Kili to dry land. "I thought I might die from waiting, where were you?"

"We were occupied," Tauriel spat water from her mouth, pulling Kili up a little higher when his head dipped too low.

"Not... what it sounds like," Kili groaned between them, head rolling and body limp.

"Oin!" Bofur called to the old dwarf as he rushed to the shoreline from the trees. Helping the three out of the water, he narrowed his eyes at Kili. "Is he alright? What happened?"

"I don't know, he was swimming up until a few moments ago," Tauriel said with a creased brow, kneeling beside her friend while the dwarf doctor appeared. "And then he seemed to lose all energy and started sinking."

"The tea," Oin said to Fili. "I made it to give him a boost, to get his circulation going… He probably used up everything he had, saving the elf."

Fili looked up at Tauriel a moment and she wondered if he was feeling some regret that Kili had come to rescue her.

"Safe? Taur… safe?" Kili breathed, rolling his head sleepily. Tauriel felt a sting of guilt and a blush of regard for the dwarf who had come after her—Kili was, even now, concerned about her despite his lack of strength.

"She's fine, she's here." Fili spared her another glance. "You did it, Kee. Time to rest."

"T_hat_ I can do," The groggy dwarf grinned.

Bofur and Fili lifted Kili up, but Fili hung back a moment, eyeing Tauriel pointedly. The miner with the long mustache glanced at Fili before rolling his eyes. "I'll give you two a moment—let me take the lad."

Tauriel watched the dwarf shuffle away with Kili, but before she could say or do anthing, Fili spoke to her, still standing with his arms crossed. "I want to thank you."

She looked the shorter dwarf in the eye. "If you want to thank me, then don't let him do something foolhardy like that again."

Fili snorted in reply.

"The dwarf is wounded! I did not risk so much to save his life, only to see him waste it." She said, crossing her own arms.

"Risk what?" Fili took a step forward. "King Thranduil would have left us to rot, I thought he would have been glad to be rid of us, but instead he sends his captain of the guard to…" Fili looked at the ground for a moment with a frown forming over his face. "…he didn't send you, did he?"

Tauriel took a deep breath before answering. "No, he didn't."

"When I saw you in Bard's doorway, I honestly thought you were an assassin—someone King Thranduil sent out after prisoners who escaped his dungeons so they could not tell of it. I'm glad that was proven wrong, but if he didn't send you—"

"I wish you would not question _why_ I am here." Tauriel said in a voice too soft and smooth to be a retort.

"Which is a nice way of telling me to back off." Fili grinned, holding his hands up in surrender. "It doesn't matter anyway—you've proven yourself to be a trustworthy ally. I only wish we could count all elves as such friends."

Tauriel must have been wearing her disbelief on her face, because he grinned and took another step forward before saying, "I don't know why you left Mirkwood or if trouble follows after you, but if we can help, you need only ask."

In her heart of hearts, Tauriel felt a swell of pride and satisfaction. He truly considered her an ally? For some reason, that approval meant more to her than most. She had been captivated by the brothers' connection to each other from the beginning, but was only now coming to understand the deep love and loyalty that lay between them. To be counted as a friend to that inner circle was more than she could have expected.

"Thank you," Tauriel said, recognizing with shame how separated the elves and dwarfs chose to be.

"I only have two requests, which I hope are not asking too much of you." Fili said with a grin.

"Oh?"

"Firstly, tell me why you put Kili in my cell, back in Mirkwood."

This. Why this? She had a perfectly good answer, but it didn't seem appropriate … on the other hand, Tauriel was in the company of dwarves and, she reminded herself, they did not have the same standards of social etiquette as her kin.

She peered at the water, grinning wider. "You and your brother are close. We elves treasure our bonds with each other, but… not as much as dwarves, apparently."

"We're a loyal bunch, to be sure," Fili smirked, looking toward the trees. "We can get a little attached…"

"I had never seen it before; it fascinated me. And my heart was broken to see you speak so fondly of each other, to be so protective even from a distance. I could not bear to be the reason you were kept from him."

The blonde dwarf nodded at this, content with her reply.

"And the second request, dwarf?"

Rolling his eyes at her, he chortled, "Let's make that three requests, then. The second would be to call us by name instead of referring to us as dwarves. There's quite a handful of us, if you haven't noticed, and we might all answer at the same time if you keep it up. Makes things easier on everyone." He winked at her when he finished his joke and drew in a tired breath. "You already know my name, Oin is our physician, and Bofur's the one with the funny hat. Kili," his eyes gleamed as though he was regarding her carefully, "Well, you two seem to know each other pretty well."

"What was your other wish, Master Fili?" Tauriel sighed, ignoring the quip.

He pointed at her left leg. "Let Oin look at that foot you've been favoring this whole time."

"Happily," Tauriel nodded, stepping forward with a limp.

Scanning the cluster of survivors, Tauriel suddenly stopped when she recognized the tall figure walking toward her.

"Legolas?" She breathed.

* * *

**youtube watch?v=wvI_e0AJymU "Honey Jars" Bryan John Appleby**

Bilbo sat on the balcony ledge overlooking the valley and the rubble of Dale, his feet dangling over the edge and his hands resting in his lap while the sun of early afternoon played over his features. The expression on his face could be described as despaired while his body sat perfectly still. He was waiting.

Waiting for Smaug to return and consume him and the dwarves.

Waiting for the companions they'd left behind in Laketown.

Waiting for Gandalf to come and straighten out the disaster everything had turned into.

Waiting for Thorin to regain his sense and do something other than sift through mounds of gold for the King's jewel…

Bilbo wasn't sure what he thought of the stone, yet, but the dragon led him to believe the only thing that could come from Thorin having at it was calamity. And Bilbo wondered just how long it would take Thorin to find out where it really was…

"There they are!" Bilbo suddenly shouted.

In the valley below, he could see two riders on a single steed that galloped toward the gate, waving at the onlooker above. Before he knew he was doing it, Bilbo began to move toward the door to the inner halls, but Balin's hand stopped him. Bilbo hadn't even seen the old dwarf come out to the balcony with him!

"Not that way—to the left." Balin directed the hobbit's attention to a door at the side of the balcony. "It goes directly below. Otherwise, you'll get lost trying to find your way!" the dwarf laughed.

The hobbit was so caught up in his relief over the stairwell that he made it a few more steps before he came to his senses. "The gates... won't I need help to open them?"

Balin laughed again, throwing his head back. "The dragon hurled himself through them last night, if you don't remember—the lads are probably already inside."

Bilbo nodded with a blush. A lengthy descent down the stairs and the hobbit found Fili swinging a leg over the saddle of the tall horse and sliding down. Kili looked a little disgruntled, but allowed Fili to catch him when he slid down.

"Where are the others?" Bilbo asked, glancing around in a little confusion.

"They'll be coming with Bard and his people soon," Fili assured the hobbit. "We need to speak to Thorin, quickly." Supporting Kili with an arm, Fili eyed the stairs the hobbit was standing near.

"Let me help." Bilbo offered, coming to Kili's other side and putting Kili's arm over his shoulder. "I'm glad you're back," Bilbo grinned at Kili, who looked unhappy with the need for assistance. "I need to talk to you. Something is wrong. Something is terribly wrong."

The blonde prince almost stumbled over a step and shifted himself to be under Kili's shoulder better.

"Wrong with what?" Kili grunted.

"With… well, with your uncle." Bilbo winced. "Ever since he walked into that treasure room, he's been acting as though the arkenstone is the _only_ thing that matters to him."

Fili nodded. "It might look that way to you, Bilbo, because you may not understand its importance as we do."

Shaking his head, the hobbit pursed his lips. "I'm not trying to say it isn't important, but… Thorin seems possessed by it. He's been irritated, determined, he hasn't slept—"

"I fail to see how that isn't normal," Kili smirked between them.

They stumbled over a step and all three fell forward, groaning and before pulling themselves upright.

"That's not what I meant," Bilbo said, rubbing his hands over his sore knees. "He just seems overly-absorbed by it." And then a thought struck the hobbit. "You came unharmed from Laketown… is the dragon gone?"

"Not really unharmed." Kili muttered as the trio took another shaky step together.

"Though, yes," Fili huffed with exertion, "The dragon has been killed by Bard."

"Wonderful!" Bilbo exclaimed, nearly dropping his grip on Kili's arm. "Then perhaps we are not so pressed for time as Thorin believes."

"We are pressed for time despite our uncle's search for the stone," Fili ground his teeth. "There is a large presence of orcs and we do not know when they mean to attack."

"Out of the frying pan," Bilbo mused on the words Thorin had said months ago.

"And into the fire," Kili finished for him.

* * *

**youtube watch?v=-7sgktCnMws**** "Let It Go" The Neighbourhood**

Thorin was still searching in the vaults when he heard the call from Balin that his nephews had come to the mountain.

Bounding up the steps after grabbing a satchel, listening to the clink of coins falling from his garments, he ran across the platform and counted on his memory to lead him to the main gate. He was part of the way down a set of stairs when he met Bilbo and Fili with their arms supporting Kili.

"Mahal be praised," Thorin said when they reached the top of the stairs. "Where are Bofur and Oin?"

"They're coming," Kili ground out, wincing as he put pressure on his injured leg, "Just far behind."

Taking in the expression of the older lad and ignoring the hobbit that stepped off to the side, Thorin pulled Kili's arm over his shoulder. "You look as though you have much to say."

Fili only nodded in reply and took up Kili's other arm while Thorin guided the younger dwarves to a nearby sitting room and sat Kili in a chair before unloading the contents of the satchel.

Of the supplies they'd gathered from Laketown, the bag held bandages and ointments, a water skin, and a few portions of cram.

Distracting Kili with a bit of cram and kneeling in front of his younger nephew's knees while the dwarf ate, Thorin checked the wound and was relieved to see that it was improving—whatever Oin had done to minister to the injury, he had done well.

Rising to his feet, Thorin looked Fili in the eye, all patience worn. "Tell me."

The two brothers glanced at each other before Kili waved at Fili to indicate that he was too busy with cram to speak.

Rolling his eyes, Fili took a deep breath and crossed his arms. "The dragon is dead, killed by Bard, but it laid waste to Laketown and the people are without shelter. Bofur and Oin are with them. Bard and his people march to Dale for a better chance against the cold and for protection. There is an army of orcs not far from here. We do not know when they mean to attack, but… it is certain they will do it soon." Thorin opened his mouth to say something, but Fili held up a hand, motioning that he wasn't done. "A dispatch has been sent to Thranduil for aid, but I assured Bard we could house his wounded here until the orcs have been annihilated."

Thorin nodded, letting all of this information sink in, when he heard the familiar whisper of the gold speaking to him.

_They will try to take me from you_, it whimpered. _All who see me lust after me, but I belong to you, love. Please… do not let them take us from each other again—I have waited so long for you!_

"I will not let them." Thorin said aloud.

**youtube .com watch?v=DR6dLMjmOKk**** "Frigid" Mieka Pauley**

Kili's brow furrowed. "Uncle? What did you say?"

"How many from Laketown?"

"A few hundred." Fili said, which earned a nod from the older dwarf. Thorin stepped away from them for a moment, hand on his chin and deep in thought.

"They do not march _against_ us, if that's what you're thinking," Fili asserted, stepping forward.

"Do they not? I suppose they mentioned nothing of the gold they were promised."

"Gold?" Kili barely held his frustration. "It is defense they crave. The orcs are bent on destroying all in their path."

Thorin shifted and cocked his head at his nephew. "But _how_ do you know this?"

"The Prince of Mirkwood pursued them to their stronghold," Kili spoke up. "He returned to warn us."

"Is this the same prince that took us prisoner in the forest?" Thorin sneered. "You have not seen this army for yourself, but you trust _his_ word? No, Kili, this is a ruse. He fabricates the tale to have an excuse to send for his father's forces. They will lay siege to Erebor and demand those jewels the elf-king desires. I assume the elf-prince rode away in haste, saying he would hurry to bring help to the people of Laketown?" Fili looked confused, but Kili did not suffer the same puzzlement. He began to glower at his uncle.

"There you have it," Thorin said, absently stroking his beard. "Laketown comes from Dale, Thranduil comes from Mirkwood, and the orcs—"

"The elves come to give aid to Bard and his people!" Kili shouted, trying to stand. He was successful enough to straighten himself but wavered at the sustained weight on his leg. "What cause do you have to mistrust the men who helped us, who suffered for our success and killed the beast who took our home?"

"Because the greed of men is insatiable and they will not stop at asking for a _portion_ of what our people have gathered here. And with Bofur and Oin as their captives—"

"Captives?" Kili was incredulous. "They are helping the refugees, which is what _you_ should be doing. Even the elves will assist them before you do."

Kili suddenly became nervous as his uncle looked him up and down. "Why do you suddenly trust the elves so implicitly?"

Though his courage visibly buckled, Kili still threw his chin up. "One of them, at least, has proven herself trustworthy. She saved my life more than once. She even defended Fili against her own prince."

When Legolas had appeared in the midst of the Laketown refugees, he'd come upon Fili first and vented at the dwarf heatedly until Tauriel stepped in. The confrontation hadn't been long, but Kili was relieved all the same that Tauriel had been there to intervene.

Just as surely as Thorin distrusted Thranduil, Kili knew he and his brother—perhaps even Bofur and Oin—had faith in Tauriel.

"That does not put them all above reproach." Thorin retorted, stepping into the doorway. "You watch: they'll call for a parlay and Bard will come alongside the elf-king—Thranduil will ask for the jewels and Bard's greed for gold will follow."

As their uncle disappeared through the doorway, Fili planted himself where he was and crossed his arms in deep thought.

"Bilbo was right, something is wrong…" Kili murmured and was moved to shock when he saw Fili thinking on their uncle's words.

"You can't tell me you think as Thorin does," Kili's voice strained against a tone of desperation, "That we can trust no one—"

"You're putting more trust in that hobbit than you are in our uncle. He's never been wrong about things like this before," Fili countered, squeezing his eyes shut. He looked as though he was wrestling with doubt behind the closed lids, but they opened at the scrape of Kili's injured leg as the dwarf crossed the floor.

"Please, say it aloud so I can hear you: tell me you do not doubt Tauriel." Kili said, standing before his brother and waiting for Fili's answer, holding his breath as though the reply might crush him.

"I don't doubt the she-elf," Fili consented, which drew a sigh from the younger dwarf as he rested a hand on Fili's shoulder.

"But you take too much of an interest in her to be impartial." Fili added, brushing his brother's hand away and storming out of the room.

* * *

**youtube watch?v=8qdk3iPFYxg "Falling" The Civil Wars**

"Are you coming with me, Tauriel?" She heard Legolas ask. The dwarf brothers had ridden to the mountain only an hour ago and Legolas was himself preparing to leave with the intention of Mirkwood.

"After our last conversation, I thought you would want to be rid of me," She half-smiled at him, humor in her eyes.

"I would never cast you aside for your views," Legolas smiled sadly at her, "No matter how much I disagree with them."

Tauriel sighed. "I cannot go with you."

"Why?" There was so much earnest wonder in his voice.

"Partly, because I am needed here," She stole a glance at the huddled bodies of refugees clinging to each other for warmth. "Partly, because I cannot go back to the confines of Mirkwood."

"You would not have left simply to find your freedom." Legolas said with a raised brow and a frown. "Is there no other reason you stay behind?" His short glance in the direction of the mountain confirmed that he already knew the answer. "I cannot fathom what draws you to the dwarves."

"It is not for you to fathom," Tauriel said somewhat defensively.

"In so short a time that you have known them, have they given you something you lacked under the care of your kin?" Legolas murmured softly. Tauriel could see the twinge of regret in his eyes and thought that perhaps he was more mindful of what she had been longing for than he originally let on.

"They have," She said warily.

As petulant as it sounded in her head, Tauriel could not deny that she had found a sense of belonging among the dwarves. She was not sure how long it would last, but she would savor it while it did. These dwarves regarded her without disgust, accepting her as she was and not questioning whether or not something was proper or well-thought-out. They were even encouraging of the characteristics she had hidden away in an effort not to displease her elders. And then the way they treated each other—the warming, family atmosphere they had begun to share even with her…

"If I am to be counted among those who neglected you, then I apologize," Legolas said despairingly. "If I had known—"

"You cannot blame yourself for this, mellon," Tauriel reached out a hand to Legolas' shoulder. It was a simple act of physical affection she had seen the dwarves throw around carelessly, but it seemed to startle Legolas to the point where she withdrew her hand. Even after hundreds of years of knowing each other, that small touch was alien to him and Tauriel knew with absolute certainty that she had made the right choice in leaving Mirkwood.

"I will accompany you part of the way," Legolas said, as if changing the subject. "And then I will ride out to my father."

So cold, Tauriel thought with embarrassment, and so reserved. Would she have ever made it past her friend's exterior to something more? Even if they had a thousand years longer together, would they have eventually fallen into the same warmth and regard that the dwarf brothers had for each other? No. The answer was always no. Legolas was the prime example of his race and would never open himself to her in that way.

* * *

**Can I get an 'amen' regarding caffiene energy drops? Oy...**

**Well, happy Thursday, all! Another chapter tomorrow and I'm working on one for Monday. Please don't hesitate to write a review, it makes me so happy when you do :)**

**Big thanks to BlueRiverSteel and SummerAlden for being the best beta readers on Fan Fiction!**

**and don't worry, Fili and Nur will be reunited soon ;)**


	16. Ch 16 -- Parlay

**Gold and Fire – Chapter 16 – Parlay**

_Hold on, before I slip away  
The flame's gone. Dark, I am afraid  
How strong is flesh and blood?  
_

_I cannot take back what I've done  
to you, my sweetest friend  
_

_I betrayed you, I walked away again.  
Now all that's left is what might have been.  
_

_Please forgive me, before we reach the end_

_-"Slip Away" Josh Garrels_

**youtube watch?v=EO3Bex07dNw "Slip Away" Josh Garrels**

The morning following his arrival to the Lonely Mountain, Fili was not surprised to see a host of men gathering around the ruins of Dale—a small number of them followed a lone figure toward the mountain gates, which had been closed at Thorin's command. Fili did not need to be able to see great distances like Tauriel to know that the man leading the others was Bard, followed closely by Bofur and Oin.

The other dwarves and hobbit were gathered together on the overlook above the gate when Bard came close enough to call up to them.

"Hail Thorin, King of the Mountain!" The bowman said loudly with a cheerful smile. "We came expecting to find none living but rejoice that you are alive!" The smile from the man faded a little, then. "Why do you fence yourselves in? We are not foes."

"That remains to be seen." Fili heard Thorin grumble under his breath, but then he addressed Bard in a louder voice. "What have you come for?"

"I trust your nephew has spoken with you regarding the hardship of the people of Laketown and I come to ask for shelter and for a share of what you promised so that we can rebuild quickly. We do not want to be a hardship to you, but the winter is coming—"

"We will give nothing while you come against us in force." Thorin said, cutting off the polite pleas of the bowman. "And until you return our comrades and cease to threaten us, we will hear no more of your requests."

Fili could see the pained expression of Bilbo out of the corner of his eye, but was too focused on the figures below to make much of it.

Though he looked heavily confused, Bard turned to look at Bofur and Oin and waved them toward the mountain. Glancing up at Thorin again, he shouted, "You speak as if they were held against their will—they are free to do as they please, but I thank them for their kind service to my people."

Oin made quickly for the gate that was beginning to open, but Bofur turned and shook hands with Bard, speaking something that Fili could not hear before rushing at the opening in the gate. As soon as the dwarves were admitted, the gates groaned as they shut.

"As for the threat you speak of," Bard said with less patience than before, "my people are weary and starving and make a very poor army—you should not fear them."

"It is not your men I'm concerned with as the dishonorable allies you have called upon." Thorin growled, inclining his head to the tall elf that approached Bard from behind.

Fili watched nervously as Thranduil made his grand entrance and bowed before 'King Bard'. What small chance Bard had in appealing to Thorin for help was crushed at the appearance of the elf-king.

"They are more honorable than some." Bard said, politeness gone. "It was the dwarves who brought calamity on us, the dwarves who took our supplies and our aid, the dwarves who unleashed the dragon. Do you mean to say, King Thorin, that those same dwarves will not give us their assistance in return? You call out the elves on their honor, but they have done none of those evils and _still_ have answered our cry for help!"

Fili snorted. If Bard's first mistake had been to bring Thranduil with him to parlay, then his second was to compare Thorin's honor to the elves. Even so, it did not justify what his uncle did next.

Thorin turned violently and his hands flew to Kili, who stood beside him. Fili's heart faltered for a moment, wondering if Thorin purposed to hurt his brother, but then saw that his uncle only meant to grapple Kili's bow and an arrow from the dwarf's back. The action seemed to take Kili off-guard just as much as Fili and the brothers stared at each other across the distance, assessing each other's reactions.

Bard stood his ground bravely while an arrow flew and stuck into the ground not a full step from his foot. The bowman kept his eyes trained on Fili, as though it were _his_ fault that Thorin was so angry. And in truth, Fili did not blame Bard for the scowl being sent his way—Fili had promised hope to the new leader of the Laketown refugees and the man was being met with something else entirely.

"If you would speak to us again, then dismiss the host of elves and we will assemble below at noon. Now be gone!" Thorin shouted, a spray of saliva leaving his growling jaws. The sight was disturbing to Fili, reminding him of a warg, and he began to agree with Bilbo that something was wrong…

* * *

** watch?v=WWerKgdMpBw "All the Same Mistakes" Mieka Pauley**

Nur wasn't sure how the conversation started, but her father, King Dain had appeared in the doorway of the trainee dorms while she packed her few belongings—and now he was sitting beside her, explaining the events of the previous year.

Dul had given a letter to the King's assistant to bring to Thorin and it made reference to the marriage between Nur and Fili. That same assistant brought the letter to King Dain instead. Naturally, her father was unhappy about the coupling to begin with—he maintained that Fili had done nothing to prove himself worthy of princess Nur, and wasn't likely to survive an encounter with the dragon guarding Erebor—but the King of the Iron Hills insisted that his vote against helping Thorin had nothing to do with her.

"Do ya' really believe I'd withhold my support of your new husband's quest to spite ya' for your Choice?" Dain looked pained, his heavy northern accent rolling out his words.

"Honestly, it was the only thing that made sense." Nur confessed with head hanging low. "You were planning for me to court another…"

"And ah' regret that decision." Dain said. "When we came togeth'r in council, ah' could only think of the dragon and how many dwarves we'd lose to win back Thorin's gold. But then he stood and gave us words ah' think none of us will ever forget:

"_I go to Erebor to reclaim the great work of my forefathers—not only the gold, but the legacy. The dwarf kingdoms were united in their ways, but no longer is this so. We adopt the ways of men because we commune with men more than each other. When I sit upon my grandfather's throne, I will see to it that we restore the traditions which you have begun to scorn._

"And ah' remember him lookin' right at me," Nur's father said with a hand over his face, "and ah' remember the guilt in knowing those words were meant for me. For you. For choosin' your groom as the nobles of men do." He brought himself to sit closer to Nur, pulling his arm over her shoulder and resting his forehead against hers. "Ah was wrong. Could ya' forgive your father, for making ya' so afraid that ya' couldna' share your happiness with me?"

"Da," Nur fought against the wetness in her eyes, "I already forgive you."

With strong arms, her father locked Nur in a warm embrace, resting his head on her shoulder. The brush of his nose against the collar of her shirt pulled it away to reveal something black.

"What's this?" He pointed at the mark. Nur hesitated a moment, wondering if she would be met with disapproval, but he only stared curiously as she pulled away the fabric to expose the two tattoos.

"Completion present from the Akkik," She said quickly, still waiting for the expression of disdain from her father—but he only nodded and smirked at her.

"It's lovely, but not exactly an original idea."

The comment brought her up short, but her confusion was set aside when King Dain pulled at the top of his tunic to show a similar marking across his left collarbone: a ram, the symbol of the Iron Hills.

"I didn't know you had that." Nur said with wide eyes.

"Sure'n, ya' did." Dain insisted with a wide grin, tucking his collar back into place. "Ah' remember a wee lass bouncin' on my knee, begging for another peek at the 'mountain goat' on her da's shoulder, and a comment from her mother about how it was inappropriate." His smile faded a moment. "Your mum'd be proud of ya', darlin'."

"Would she?" Nur looked at the ground. "Is this the kind of training she would have been happy to hear about?"

"She'd a' been happy that ya' accomplished so much in so little time." He said. "Ah know _Ah'm_ proud o' ya, lass. Just so long as ya' did it for yourself and not to prove somethin' to me."

"Oh, don't worry—I didn't do it for you, I did it _against_ you." Nur said with a humorous expression. "You see, I was planning to climb the ranks and lead your army to Erebor in the dead of night without you knowing it."

"Ah, so _that's_ how 'tis, now?" He smiled at her mischievous tone. "And when would ya' be leaving with these legions?"

Nur shrugged dramatically. "Perhaps tomorrow night."

Laughing loudly, he clapped his hands. "Then ya'd be marching on your own. The troops are already engaged with orders to leave t'morrow mornin'. Now, if your plans aren't set for t'morrow night, Ah might be able to place ya' with 'em..." Dain seemed to be ignoring the wide eyes of his daughter and clapped a hand on her knee. "A raven flew in yesterday with a message from the Lon'ly Mountain. T'seems there's no longer a dragon residin' in Thorin's grand halls, but the elves are givin' 'im a hard time."

"I'll be a foot-soldier if I have to." She said, feeling the adrenaline beginning to coarse through her veins.

"Ah' was more interested in fillin' in the vacant Lieutenant position."

"That is too high of an honor," Nur objected. "And a little ridiculous, to be honest—you need someone with more experience—"

"Lass, ya' don't have a choice." Dain said solemnly. "There's a battle ahead of us and until ah' can release ya' to Prince Fili's undistracted care, you're _my_ responsibility and this is how ah'm goin' to keep ya' safe. Foot-soldier? No. You'll be as close as ah' can keep ya', as an officer. The Royal Guard and other officers will be close at hand, protecting ya. I'd surround ya' with fifty archers and fifty infantry if I thought it'd to any good, but we're not yet sure what we're up against."

His tone and the growl behind his words made it clear that she wasn't allowed to argue further. She knew it wasn't about keeping her away from battle entirely—he should know better than to try after the year she'd finished—but about giving her father one last opportunity to care for her before she left the Iron Hills and adopted the Lonely Mountain as her home.

"Ah've got one more bit a' news before ah have to leave ya'." He said, rising to his feet. "The raven that brought me the news from Erebor also brought other birds, younger ones…they could only carry messages of a few words and ah' canna' be sure if they remembered what they were told. One was from Fili."

"And?"

"Like ah' said, lass, t'might not make sense—" He took in a breath. "Fili said: ten fingers."

Instantly flooded with warmth, Nur beamed at her father. "They got it right."

"What does tha' even mean?"

With her privacy having been invaded so much lately, Nur was reluctant to explain the origin of the words. In her previous adventures with Fili, Nur had been attacked by a dwarf named Gren and made to believe that the evil dwarf had killed her beloved—a set of severed fingers serving as "proof" of the horrible deed. But when Fili had turned up alive, with ten fingers still attached, Nur had begun to use his hands as a tool to distinguish between reality and her wakeful nightmares.

"It means he's whole." She smiled at her father. "It means he's well. That he loves me and that he's working to make things right for us. He reminds me to keep up hope and to wait patiently for him."

* * *

**youtube watch?v=2Llw-utG_mM "Marathon" Heartless Bastards**

Bombur was settling into the bench on the outside balcony as his night-watch started when he began to shiver. He found his mind playing over the events of the day as he grew bored, pondering the actions of his companions along with the men and elves camping at "doorstep" of the mountain.

_"Uncle," Fili had said after the second meeting in the afternoon, "Why do you continue to meet with them if you won't change your mind?"_

_"We are waiting for King Dain," Thorin spoke in a low tone, though Bombur could still hear him. "Extended parlay with the men and elves is buying us time until help arrives."_

_"Help has already arrived," Kili had muttered, and Thorin dismissed the comment with a shake of his head and a growl._

_"I know your sentiments for our enemy and I've had enough of hearing it."_

Bombur wasn't sure what they were talking about, but it was obvious to everyone that Thorin and his nephews didn't see eye to eye about everything going on. He felt a pang of pity, though, in seeing Kili's face messed into a worrying frown. Bombur had known the lad since he was little and could remember picking up little Kili and waltzing around the kitchen with him while a batch of rolls in the oven filled the room with a homey smell. The poor little dwarves had lost their father so early on that Bombur fussed himself sick with the idea that their family would never be complete, never feel whole again.

"It's freezing out here." Bombur heard at his side.

"Bilbo." Bombur smiled warmly, clapping a hand on the hobbit's back when Bilbo sat beside him. "It _is_ mighty cold. I wish we could have a roaring fire up here like the one I see down in the men's camp."

"It's still pretty warm inside," Bilbo said, darting his head to glance at the doorway.

"I'm sure it is, but I won't feel it for myself until my watch is done." The bulky dwarf groaned. "I've been so set on just _getting_ to the Lonely Mountain that I forgot there wasn't a feast here waiting for me. Funny, isn't it? How we're so set on journeying somewhere that we forget what really waits for us at the end?" And then with a voice full of longing, Bombur rested his hands on the mound of his stomach. "What I wouldn't give to see my wife and a few of her famous raisin cakes… or a soft bed, for that matter."

"I can't give you either of those," Bilbo shook his head with a laugh, "but it's been a long time since my last watch and I couldn't sleep if I wanted to. Let me take your turn so you can find at least a warm bedroll inside."

Bombur came close to tears at the kindness of the hobbit and wrapped Bilbo's tiny form into a tight hug. Bilbo was perhaps not expecting the amount of thankfulness emanating from the large dwarf and squirmed in the strong hold.

"You are a good fellow, Mr. Baggins," Bombur said, releasing his surprised friend. "I will not forget this act of kindness—but please be sure to wake me, should anything happen."

"I will—and never you mind, you're doing me a favor as well. Off you go!"

Bombur was happy to comply, never understanding until the next day just what favor the hobbit was speaking of…

* * *

**youtube watch?v=LPXJXxfauis "Black Flies" Ben Howard**

It was fortunate for Bilbo that King Thranduil and 'King' Bard were convening in the same tent, but even more fortunate that he had the ring to keep him from tipping off the guards as he ducked into that same tent. He pulled the ring off of his finger and appeared before the number of men and elves who sat around a table.

"Baggins?" The whisper of shock came from Bard's mouth. There was a stunned silence that followed, but Bilbo was grateful that no one else spoke—speechless was better than a screech for the guards.

"I'm happy that you remember my name—please, let me speak a moment, I've not come to threaten you." Bilbo watched the impassive expression on the elf-king's face and the puzzled one on Bard's. "Things are really… well, impossible. Personally, I'm already tired of the whole thing, and I know you are, too."

There was a red-headed elf-maid who stood directly behind Bard with her hands behind her back. It wasn't until Bilbo paused that he realized she was sheathing weapons he hadn't noticed at first. He gulped.

"There are lives at stake, we cannot change our wishes," Bard said, glancing a moment at the elf-king across the table, "but we hope that Thorin can change his."

Bilbo snorted and surprised himself with the sound—perhaps he'd been in the company of dwarves for too long. "You don't know Thorin Oakenshield like I do. I assure you, he is quite ready to sit on a heap of gold and starve as long as you sit here."

"Well, let him!" Bard said. "He deserves to starve if he's so hard-headed."

"Yes, but… there is something you don't know." Bilbo didn't mean to sound mysterious, but the figures that leaned forward to listen better made him feel as though he was implying something ominous. "King Dain of the Iron Hills has been sent for—I don't know how soon he will be here, but I'm sure it does nothing to turn the odds in your favor."

Bard sat back and considered this while his elf companion bent slightly, whispering something into his ear. Bilbo was puzzled for a moment, wondering why this elf-maid was advising Bard and not her own king, when he realized she was the same Captain of the Guard who had charge over the dwarves in their captivity in Mirkwood.

"Why do you tell us these things?" Thranduil's deep, melodious voice rose above the quiet clamor in the tent. "What is it that you expect us to do?" And leaning forward, the elf-king narrowed his eyes at Bilbo. "And are you betraying your friends—or threatening us?"

"Goodness, no!" Bilbo's hands shot up defensively. "I only want to help."

"Help, how?" Bard eyed the hobbit suspiciously.

Without ceremony and without explanation, Bilbo reached into the pack which was slung over his shoulder and dumped a cloth-wrapped bundle on the table. Confused eyes took in the bundle and when Bilbo saw that they were all hesitant to touch it, he rolled his eyes and stepped forward to undress it—revealing the arkenstone.

"No," Thranduil whispered.

"Is that what I think it is?" Bard said, inclining his head to his elven counselor.

"I believe it is." The Captain of the Guard said. Bilbo pulled at his memory… he knew her name, what was it?

"I fail to see how this will help our friendship with the dwarves." Bard murmured.

"Your friendship was injured when Thorin saw the elves," Bilbo winced, "but this, at least, will purchase the relief your people need."

"Then this looks to be our only option, unless the elves can affect Thorin's mind in their favor."

"We can." Thranduil spoke suddenly with a small look of remorse. "And if we are to avoid battle with the dwarves of the Iron Hills then we must."

"What are you saying?" Bard asked.

Though Thranduil held his head with a haughty bearing, his eyes showed age and deep regret. "Thorin's lust for the arkenstone has been heavy on his mind." Bilbo nodded in agreement, wondering where the elf was going with this. "It has been clouding his judgment. I believe I can affect it otherwise, but I can do nothing for the gold-sickness which plagues him."

"Gold-sickness?" Bilbo rolled the words around in his mouth. He remembered overhearing Elrond of Rivendell speaking of it to—

"The same which tormented his grandfather before him." An old voice croaked from the other side of the table. The speaker pulled back the hood of his cloak.

"Gandalf!" Bilbo exclaimed. He was angry and excited all at the same time. _Where have you been? Why weren't you able to come sooner? Things have turned into a tremendous mess! _

"Why does King Thranduil think he can bring some clarity to King Thorin's mind?" Gandalf asked, ignoring Bilbo's reaction and pointing his focus at the elf-king.

Thranduil made no reply, but Bilbo saw that the red-headed elf—Tauriel! That's what her name was—looked at her king with disdain.

"Clarity is not the right word, is it?" She said in a tone that made Bilbo think she knew something the rest of them didn't. "It is a lifting of an enchantment _you_ placed upon him—"

Thranduil rose, silencing Tauriel with a glare. The others watched with baited breath as the two stared each other down.

Gandalf was the only one who didn't seem daunted by the exchange. "Past actions are no longer important—what we do now, here, is what matters."

Turning slightly to nod at Gandalf, Thranduil looked purposefully at Bard. "I had hoped to barter for the white gems owed to us, but ours is not the only dispute—I will relieve Thorin of the allure to the arkenstone and perhaps he will become more reasonable. But I can do nothing against the magic of the gold…"

There was another heavy silence and Bilbo let out the breath he had been holding in unconsciously.

"What of you, friend?" Bard inclined his head toward the hobbit. "It may be dangerous for you to return to the mountain when they learn what you have done. We can offer you a place amongst us; I am sure the people of Laketown would welcome you back happily."

"You seem to be taking in a number of strays." Thranduil said as he lounged back in his chair, chin resting against long fingers.

Bilbo suddenly understood that the comment was directed more at Tauriel than Bard and was sure that his quota of awkward moments had been filled up for the night.

"Thank you, but after everything I've been through with them, I couldn't leave them now. In fact, I must be getting back quickly."

"Bilbo Baggins," Gandalf said with a smile, "There is always more about you than anyone expects." And rising from his chair, he led the hobbit out of the tent, hand on the hobbit's shoulder, and encouraging him that all would be well soon.

The wizard retreated, though, when the red-haired elf came to walk quietly beside him.

"Is there something I can do for you?" Bilbo asked in confusion.

"There is," She said hesitantly. Bending to grasp Bilbo's hand, she pressed something cold and smooth into his palm before straightening herself again. "Perhaps you could return this to its owner."

"This is the stone Kili's mother gave to him." Bilbo said with wide eyes. "How did you come by it?"

Tauriel shrugged. "He must have dropped it along the shoreline; I found it there after he left for the mountain."

Bilbo was certain he saw something in the elf's eyes—a fondness or at least a sense of concern—as he dropped the stone into his pocket. Looking at the mountain for a moment and sighing, he knew he must go back, but he wasn't looking forward to it.

"The brothers—are they well?" Tauriel peeked at the hobbit's face from where she towered above him.

"Yes," He nodded with a grin. "Kili's wound is healing, though I'm sure if it were otherwise, his brother would be fussing over him more."

A low chuckle came from Tauriel's throat before she nodded.

"Would you like me to pass along a message for you?" Bilbo suddenly asked.

Her eyes widened and she shook her head, though the lingering half smile on her face betrayed that she was shy enough to decline despite _wanting_ to take him up on the offer.

"I could—I doubt it would cause me more trouble than I have already heaped on myself." Bilbo insisted.

"I hope this does not end badly." Tauriel said. Bilbo could not determine whether this was something she wanted to convey to the dwarves or simply an errant thought, but he nodded his head in agreement.

"So do I."

* * *

**youtube watch?v=qqXjt5WFPgc "Honest" The Neighbourhood**

Kili heard the grunts of the hobbit climbing the rope before he saw him, but reached a hand over the railing and hauled up Bilbo by his arm. Bilbo shrieked in surprise before clamping down his other hand over his mouth when he saw who it was.

"What were you doing, Bilbo?" Kili's voice ground out. Finding Bilbo sneaking around was only another weight added to his already weary shoulders...

"I was—confound it, if you're going to help me up, then give me your other hand!" He said, scrambling over the railing and patting his chest as he straightened himself on solid ground. "I was—"

"What were you doing in the other camp?" Kili said with crossed arms.

"No one was supposed to see—I took Bombur's watch—I meant to be back—"

"Quiet down." Kili whispered with his hands up. "No one saw you, just me."

The hobbit looked confused. "You said _other_ camp, didn't you mean _enemy_ camp?"

"No," Kili said sternly, "My uncle does not speak for all of us."

Bilbo seemed to be thinking for a moment before he ducked to sit on the stone bench beside the railing. "Kili, I'm so tired." He ran a hand through his brown locks. "Tired of being cold and hungry, tired of being met with difficulty, tired of…" He narrowed his eyes at Kili. "I'm going to tell you something because… well, I'm tired and don't care—that and I can trust you."

"What have you done, Bilbo?" Kili said with interest, glancing at the lights of the camp in the distance and looking down at the sitting hobbit. What Bilbo could have said to Bard, Kili could not come up with, but the way the hobbit spoke said he'd done something he considered unforgiveable.

"I found the arkenstone." Bilbo said with his hands rubbing over his face. "And I gave it to Bard."

Kili took a step back, shock showing plainly on his face.

"I didn't want…" The hobbit's lips trembled. "The dwarves sitting in these stone walls need help just as much as the people of Laketown do. We'll all starve or freeze before anyone comes to their senses… I thought if I gave Bard something to barter with, he could end it and we could press forward…Thorin is going to be furious..." The hobbit ducked his head, crying softly into his hands.

Kili looked at the lights of the camp again. Even if he had agreed with his uncle, they had almost nothing to feed themselves with, let alone the army of the Iron Hills! The victor and loser of any battle between the men, elves, and dwarves won the same reward: starvation.

"Bilbo, look at me." Kili said, stepping toward the hobbit. Bilbo's face remained where it was, in his hands. The young dwarf laid a hand on Bilbo's mop of hair. "Bilbo!"

Now the hobbit looked up, eyes begging for forgiveness.

"You did the right thing." Kili whispered, removing his hand and kneeling to be eye-level with his friend. "It was reckless and brave, but it was the right thing to do."

Bilbo ventured a short laugh between sniffles. "You must be rubbing off on me."

Kili's face did not take on his regular humorous expression, but stayed solemn. "I don't know what's going to happen tomorrow morning when Thorin finds out, but I promise you I will not let you stand alone."

"I can't let you stand against your uncle."

Kili shook his head. "I won't be standing against him, I will be helping him to understand: He will be forced to give the men of Laketown what they need. When Thorin's tightens his belt to the last notch, he will call upon them for help again. It's only a matter of time before he realizes that Men, Dwarves, and Elves alike need the same things to survive and that we can help each other."

Bilbo nodded, wiping his nose against his sleeve and peering over the balcony into the darkness. "And Gandalf will be there."

"He's returned?" Kili's heart felt less heavy. "Then he will help to make things well again, you'll see."

Bilbo's hand scrambled into his pocket as though he had suddenly remembered something and a small gold trinket fell to the floor with a high-pitched ring like a bell.

"What's this?" Kili said, bending to pick it up, but Bilbo snatched it before the dwarf could touch it.

"It's nothing." The hobbit said hastily and Kili forgot his curiosity when Bilbo handed him the black rune-stone.

"Mr. Baggins, you are full of wonder tonight," Kili said with wide eyes, staring at the black stone which he held in front of his own face. "How did you—?"

"The Captain of Mirkwood gave it to me," Bilbo said, fussing with the trinket in his pocket. "Or… Tauriel. I don't think she's a captain anymore…"

"Why do you say that?"

Bilbo looked to be thinking on his words. "She wasn't standing with Thranduil. Actually, she was advising Bard. And then I gave them the stone and he was grateful and he offered to let me stay with them—" Bilbo seemed to know he was rambling at this point, but kept speaking anyway, "And then Thranduil said something about Bard picking up strays—"

A jolt ran through Kili's thought process. Fili had mentioned some of his conversation with the red-haired elf, something about what she had risked to pursue the dwarves and how she hadn't told him why she left Mirkwood against her King's orders… Bilbo's new information brought on a bit more confusion, but also another piece to the puzzle. Apparently, Tauriel had left Mirkwood for good…

"She didn't… say anything, did she?" Kili murmured, head ducking to look at his shoe, which wasn't quite as interesting as he let on—but Bilbo seemed to understand Kili's body language and gave a small chortle.

"Yes, actually." Bilbo seemed to be waiting for Kili to meet his eyes. "She asked about you—well, she asked about 'the brothers' and I told her you were well." He scratched his head. "She also said something else, but I don't know if it was meant for you. She said: I hope this doesn't end badly."

Kili smirked, wondering himself if it was a reference to her plight of being homeless or a disdain for the confrontation yet to come. At least on one of those counts, he mused, he would make sure that she did not have reason for worry, whether that meant staying with the Men or…

* * *

**I hope you're having an excellent Friday :) Monday we will see Thorin's reaction- the next chapter is going to start the AU part of this story- I'm hoping that when The Battle of Five Armies comes out, I can implement some of the scenes into this story, but until then, you'll just have to have fun reading my version**

**Thank you to BlueRiverSteel and SummerAlden for being beta readers- they have some fantastic stories:**

** s/10697920/1/Erebor-Reclaimed-Book-Three-The-Quest-of-Seven**

** s/10654918/1/Erebor-3022-Kingfathers-A-Courtship-Year-Story-6**


	17. Ch 17 -- Reconcile

**Gold and Fire – Chapter 17 – Reconcile**

_If you search your soul, and it sets you free__  
__And you're all contrite like you ought to be__  
__It might get you off, get you right with God,__  
__But you'll never be right with me__  
__Get right down on your knees and pray__  
__And thank the Lord I don't have my way_

_-"Marked Man" Meika Pauley_

* * *

Fili shivered as the chilly breeze of the morning swept about him. He stood with the other dwarves in the flagged area only a short run from the gates of the mountain. A small crowd approached them, full of both strange and familiar faces. King Thranduil and Legolas. Bard—make that 'King' Bard— and Tauriel. Another man who must have been assistant to Bard and an obviously older man whose hood obscured his face.

Shivering again when the wind blew stronger, Fili glanced to his left and saw Kili shudder violently. With fast fingers, Fili unclasped his cloak and threw it over Kili's shoulders. He expected an objection, but was met with a grateful smile as the lad pulled the cloak around himself. Fili was a bit startled by the graceful reaction and scrutinized Kili's face, sensing that something was off.

Fili's stare must have been obvious because Kili met his brother's eyes hesitantly. "I'm fine. Really. I'm just..." The young dwarf exhaled slowly. "…I'm not looking forward to this meeting."

"I don't think any of us are." Fili grumbled. Looking ahead, he realized the men and elves had closed the distance and were beginning to speak to Thorin—but out of the corner of his eye, he saw Kili reassuring a worried Bilbo.

"Hail King Thorin!" Bard said. "Are you still of the same mind?"

"It will not change with the rising of a new sun," Thorin said in a calm tone. "I am willing to speak to you, King Bard, but not to your friends."

Bard shook his head. "We are indebted to the elves, just as you are indebted to us. But let us come to the point: Is there nothing we could offer you in exchange for our portion of gold?"

"If there was, be sure I would not speak of it in the presence of the elf-king." Thorin laughed.

Fili's eyebrows came together as he took in his uncle's relaxed stance. Yesterday Thorin had been in a temper, quick to ignore the negotiations and threaten their "enemies"—even going so far as to shoot at them with Kili's bow—but now… now he seemed reasonable, patient, and thoughtful.

"Not even the arkenstone of Thrain?" Bard cocked his head at the older man, who came forward with a wooden box. The lid of the box was removed by a wizened hand and the glory of the brilliant stone was revealed, casting small rays of light from where it sat against blue velvet lining.

Thorin looked at the box dispassionately, confusing Fili when he did not bellow or glare, but said, "That stone was my grandfather's, my father's, and now mine. Why should I buy back what is already mine?"

Fili chanced a look at his brother, who had reached out to grasp at Bilbo's elbow, a look of hope in both of their eyes. Taking in all the different changes in behavior—from Thorin, from Bilbo, and from Kili—Fili began to feel as though everyone else knew something he didn't know…

"How were you able to steal it from the mountain?" Thorin asked in a tranquil but curious tone.

"We are not thieves." Bard said, equally perplexed by the previously-angry dwarf's casual demeanor. "But we will return it to you in exchange for what you owe us."

"Fine, you are not thieves." Thorin relented with a half-smile. "But we searched the vaults and were unable to find it—how did you succeed where we did not?"

"It was given to us." Thranduil finally spoke.

"Given to you?" Thorin pressed, though still his anger did not show. Would nothing rouse the irritability that had come so easily the day before? "By whom?"

"I gave it to them." Fili heard to his far left. He turned his head and was mystified to see Bilbo step forward with a shudder—either from the cold or fear of the dwarf King.

"Bilbo?" Thorin whispered, startled as he turned to face the hobbit.

"I—I didn't want there to be any more trouble—we need help just as much as they do—"

"Bilbo?" Thorin repeated with wonder.

Fili jerked his head to the left to glare at Kili, his eyes saying everything. _You knew about this, didn't you?_

And the look of reply from Kili was a stern expression, a clenching of his jaw, and eyes that answered: _yes._

"Will you—" The hobbit gulped. "Will you give them what you promised?" Bilbo seemed to become braver as time went on without Thorin becoming angry.

Thorin shifted and sighed, looking down at the ground, contemplating. The hobbit dared to take a step forward and spoke again, "Will you give them their gold?"

It wasn't until the word 'gold' that Thorin's face began to register something different than patience and thoughtfulness. The King's face twisted into something ugly and a fire blazed behind his darkening eyes.

"The gold," Thorin murmured in a venomous hiss, "is _mine_! And no one else's!" and glowering at Bilbo with a hatred Fili had never seen on his uncle's face, Thorin spat at the ground. "You descendent of rats."

Bilbo took a step back with a look of terror as Thorin stepped closer, fists clenching and eyes blazing. "You undersized burglar. You traitor. You miserable hobbit!"

Fili was frozen in shock, but saw his cloak fly off of Kili's shoulders as his brother lurched forward toward Bilbo, who had fallen onto his backside in an effort to escape the wrath of the dwarf King. It was this same moment that Thorin raised his arm above his head to deliver a blow to the fallen Halfling.

The raised fist lowered quickly and powerfully and came into contact with Kili's temple as the younger dwarf threw himself before Bilbo, flying to the side when the impact jarred against his head.

The shock which kept Fili's limbs from moving melted away into a seething fury and granted his arms and legs a power he'd only known when he had a sword in his hand. He jolted and slid against the dirt, his knees beside Kili's shoulders as he took the younger dwarf's head in his hands.

Kili's eyes fluttered open and Fili could see that the archer's temple and right eye were beginning to redden and swell. It made the older brother angry, but what incited his temper more was the red line appearing on Kili's forehead and the blood that began to throb out of it. A ring. Thorin wore a ring. And it had sliced through skin…

Clasping Kili's arm and lifting his brother, Fili turned to raise the hobbit as well.

Thorin seemed stuck where he was, confusion and misery playing on his face while he watched Fili lift up his nephew and the hobbit from the ground before turning to stand protectively between them and Thorin. Fili could not help the growl emanating from his throat, one hand still on his brother's arm and the other clenched and bent, as though ready to strike out at any moment.

** watch?v=qyWNTIwSJIc "Marked Man" Mieka Pauley**

Tauriel was already listening intently to the words between Thorin and the small hobbit, but her adrenaline spiked when she saw the dwarf king raise his fist above his head and then swipe low with a crushing force. However, the hit was not delivered to its intended recipient.

Kili rushed forward and put himself between Thorin and Bilbo, taking the impact of his uncle's force with a grunt and flying to the side when the larger dwarf's fist collided with him.

Tauriel jerked in response, ready to fall upon the dwarf king and beat him with her bare fists if need be, but hands reached back and caught hers before she could do anything more than step forward. She kept her eyes trained on Thorin and his nephew, but she knew one of the hands on her arm belonged to Bard…

With lightning speed, the blond dwarf dove and knelt beside his brother, cradling Kili's head for a moment until Kili nodded at him. Fili rose to his feet, bringing Kili with him and bending low to give the hobbit a helping hand before turning to Thorin. No matter how terrifying Thorin had come across previously, it was nothing compared to the boiling rage of Fili.

He let out a growl to let the older dwarf know that the two standing behind him were under Fili's protection and he would not let Thorin near them. The sound from Fili's throat was meant to be intimidating, but it only gave Tauriel a sense of relief, knowing that Kili would suffer no other blows from his uncle. Her heart ached when she took in the despair on Kili's face, understanding immediately that the dwarf was more hurt by his uncle's anger than the trickle of blood running down his forehead.

Thorin sank to his knees, his hands in his face. "I'm sorry," he whispered, though her elf-ears picked it up easily.

"I did not believe when it was said that you went mad; for a time I even sided with you against the elves and the men." Fili said, towering over his kneeling uncle. "But this has gone too far! I only wish Gandalf were here—"

"A wish easily granted," said the wizard beneath his hood, removing his hand from Tauriel's arm. She was suddenly relieved that she hadn't tried to overpower the hands that held her back—what could she have done against the powers of Gandalf? "And I would prefer that my burglar remain unharmed."

"I will see to his safety myself." Fili spoke, glancing at Thorin, who was still so stunned that he hadn't moved and kept his face in his hands. The blond dwarf leaned his head to listen to the whispered words of his brother behind him before adding, "And we will prepare to give Bard his portion of the treasure—there is quite a lot to be doled out."

Bard nodded at this and bowed his head to Fili. "I wonder if I can impose further—"

"Bring your wounded, women, and children to the gates—we have nothing for them to eat, but our halls are warmer and safer than Dale's." Fili glanced once more at his uncle as though expecting him to object, but Thorin had turned into a stone monument of remorse.

Bard bowed again, heaving a sigh. "I am sure we can supply them—and you—with foodstuffs until the elves are able to send more relief."

Fili nodded, but said nothing more, turning to face Bilbo and the dwarves and murmuring something to them.

Tauriel did not expect it, but when her eyes ventured to find Kili again, she was startled to see him staring right back at her.

The group of dwarves began to turn and walk to the gates and the group of men and elves began to disperse, retreating to their various tents, but Tauriel's eyes were still locked on the dark-haired dwarf who nodded at her.

** watch?v=08zD6f41pcE "I Haven't Even Started With You" Mieka Pauley**

Thorin's heart was heavy—so heavy that his legs buckled under the weight and brought him to his knees while his limbs hung limply at his side, weakened by the strain it took to keep himself from falling over entirely.

Had he really just struck his nephew? Thorin allowed himself to believe for a moment that he'd been just as startled as everyone else when Kili flung himself in front of Bilbo, but he could not escape the truth for long: In the few seconds it had taken for Thorin to realize his nephew was about to bear the brunt of his hit, he committed to letting his fist fall anyway.

_How far?_ He asked himself. _How far will you let this go?_

As if in answer, he heard Fili's voice above him, telling him that he had already gone too far.

_No, love, you did it for me!_ The gold shouted in his head.

_I struck out against someone I love for you?_ Thorin responded in misery. _No. No more. You are cold, hard, and lifeless—my nephews, my sister, and my friends are alive—_

_But I am alive,_ the gold pleaded desperately.

_No_, Thorin countered firmly. _No, you're…_ he didn't want to confess it, but he understood how necessary it was: _You are a figment of madness. You are a creation of my mind and I will resist you. I was in pain, seeking comfort, and so I made my own in conjuring you. _

The gold spoke no more, as if by this admission Thorin had destroyed the character his head.

Thorin raised his eyes, seeing that a handful of dwarves had returned to the gates while a few others stood by in a circle around him. Balin and Dwalin helped him to his feet, not leaving his arms until they'd walked him through the gates and into the entrance halls.

Where he was and what he was doing was blurry, but his senses suddenly awoke to the sound of creaking and groaning.

The gates. They were opening the gates, he realized numbly. Taking in his surroundings, he understood that he had been left to sit on a bench on the overlook while trails of men on the ground below made their way into Erebor.

"Thorin?" He heard to his right, and barely registered when the voice whispered softly, "Uncle?"

Still in something of a daze, Thorin saw first the blond waves of his nephew before his eyes were able to focus on the rest of Fili's features.

"I'm so old, Fili," Thorin mused, hands clasped between his knees while his elbows supported him on his thighs. "How have you grown so fast?"

Fili didn't respond to this, but his lips twitched, as though he were wondering whether Thorin was in his right mind.

Maybe he wasn't. "The gold. It was speaking to me. It took away the hurt, promised me things…"

"I don't understand." Fili said in a low tone. Sitting on the bench, though as far from the older dwarf has he could get, Fili's look of concern grew.

"The gold sickness," Thorin breathed, "I knew it was affecting me. But it made me feel as I have not felt for a long time…yet it plagued me. I couldn't fathom being parted from it, having the men take it away—I'd have lost my comfort…" He glared at his hands. "But I can't blame it on the gold—it was a willingness to be deceived for the sake of peace."

Fili nodded, but Thorin knew it changed none of what had happened. No matter how much the sickness had played on his mind and altered his perception, it was Thorin who had acted through it all.

"I fear you will never forgive me." Thorin groaned, leaning his head forward into his hands.

There was silence for a while and Thorin knew he deserved every amount of censure his nephew was able to offer, but his heart sped up when he felt Fili's tentative hand on his shoulder.

"I harbor so much remorse for what happened," Thorin said softly. "but none more than the hurt I caused in striking your brother. You should never have cause to be afraid of me… I'm sorry I gave you cause today." Placing a shaking hand over the one Fili rested on Thorin's shoulder, the older dwarf spared him a weak smile. "And I am proud beyond measure to have seen you step forward as you did."

"I didn't have much of a choice." Fili muttered.

"Leaders seldom do." Thorin nodded.

** watch?v=m_dvakUl9wA "Between Us" Peter Bradley Adams**

Kili sat on stone steps beside a haggard Bilbo. Shutting his eyes for a moment, he relished in the quiet moment Oin had given him from hours of assisting with the front hall had been made into an infirmary—it was easier to access than having to make their way up the multiple stairs- and hundreds of injured had been brought in and tended to by any willing volunteer. With a clean cloth, the dwarf wiped away the smeared blood on his hands and sighed in exhaustion, resting his head against the wall beside the stairs. The cold stone felt good against his puffy face where he'd been struck and he wondered if the skin looked as irritated as it felt.

"I hope you do not intend to sleep on those stairs." A feminine voice caused his eyes to open.

"Tauriel." He smiled.

Bilbo looked at the both of them for a moment and then muttered something about finding food before he sprang up and strode away quickly.

Raising his eyebrows at the hobbit, Kili shrugged and patted the step beside him, "Join me?"

She seemed to hesitate, but then lowered herself to sit on a lower step so that their heads were level.

"Why are you here?"

"I am here because you asked me to sit with you." She said with a frown.

"No," Kili laughed a little too loudly. "That's not what I meant."

"I am helping with the wounded, just as you are." She said, nodding her head at his hands, which still bore a remnant of blood.

He nodded, ducking his head, but his lips pressed into a line. "That's not really what I meant, either. Um…" He scratched the back of his head, scrunching his eyes. "I tend to be a little blunt, so I'll just come out with it: You left Mirkwood and it doesn't seem as though you're set on going back."

Kili expected that she would be indignant, but to his surprise, she smirked at him. "Are all dwarves this direct?"

"I don't think so. No, that'd just be me, then." He said, resting his elbows on his knees and turning his head to smile at her, relieved that he hadn't angered her. "I figured if we were going to be friends, I might as well warn you."

Tauriel's cheeks filled with a rosy color and something stirred inside of Kili's chest—a sense of accomplishment in finally causing the elf to blush over something.

"I think you expected me to be offended," she smiled at him, "but I like directness. It is a welcome contrast to the intricate courtesies I've known among my kin. I have often felt I was being lied to with such politeness."

"You're not answering the question." He said, poking her ribs with his elbow.

"You didn't _ask_ me a question." She grinned as she slid further away from him.

"Tauriel." Kili groaned.

Taking in a slow breath, she shook her head. "I have no intention of returning to Mirkwood," she glanced at open the hall and Kili could see she was looking at Bard in the distance, helping his daughter with an elderly woman, "but my intentions are sometimes baffled by circumstances beyond my control."

Kili nodded and a long moment passed before he realized he was staring at her while she continued to gaze at the hall. Her skin wasn't quite as creamy as he'd stereotyped most elves' skin to be, but it took on a darker hue—and were those freckles? Ever so lightly were the subtle dots strewn over her cheekbones and the rise of her forehead. They seemed to be dim shade similar to her hair—

Before he knew what he was doing, he saw her turn her head to look down at his hand— he'd reached out to touch the tips of her copper hair. Kili dropped it immediately, but she only broke into a half grin, eyes piercing into his with a curious expression and causing his thoughts to turn into a confused jumble.

"Kili?"

Kili shook his head, trying to gather his thoughts. "Sorry, I got lost in the stars."

"The stars?"

"On your face, your freckles, they look like—" And then his eyes widened, watching her hand go her face while she touched the cheek bone as if to see for herself. "Did I say that out loud? I didn't mean—I wasn't staring—they _do_ look like stars, I like them, but—" Her eyes took on an amused expression, but that only caused his mind to go further blank and his mouth to keep babbling, "I only wanted to say that if you needed to, you could stay with me—I mean, not with _me_—I meant, here, in Erebor, but—I mean you could—"

_That's enough of that, Kili!_ He scolded himself.

There was only one thing left to do to save himself further embarrassment and that was to run away as fast as he could. But his legs got mixed up beneath him—he'd forgotten his right leg was still weak—and tried turning the corner only to realize there was no corner to turn. His face and chest collided with the wall he hadn't been expecting and he plopped down to his backside on the stairs again.

At first the elf laughed, perhaps thinking it was a joke, but then as Kili's forehead began to bleed where Thorin's ring had cut him, she scooted herself down and stole the bloodied cloth he'd used to clean his hands.

Tauriel went to dab at the injury, but Kili buried his face in his hands, moaning to Mahal to kill him on the spot.

"Please, let me see." He heard, but he made no movement to take his hands away from his face. Maybe she would leave if he refused to make eye contact with her. Maybe she would forget what he said if he clamped his eyes shut tight enough. Maybe…

But he felt the cloth pressing against his head gently and he knew none of those wishes would happen.

"Head injuries, no matter how substantial," she said in a soothing tone, "have the habit of bleeding strongly."

"I'll be sure to remember that—now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go find a marble column to bash my head against until I'm senseless."

"I wish you wouldn't." She said, bringing his hands down, though he kept his eyes shut. "I wish you would continue what you were saying before—about the offer to stay, not the freckles… though I did enjoy that."

Now Kili's eyes opened_. Enjoy?_ Would nothing spur her anger towards him? "I didn't know if you had anywhere to go. If you don't—"

"Thank you," Tauriel said quickly. "But I am more inclined to travel for the time being. I would like to explore my liberty."

"I understand." Kili said, relaxing a little. "I've always been more comfortable on the road than anywhere else—though the Blue Mountains are a sight which shouldn't be missed—"

And that is when Bilbo came rushing at them. "Kili! Dale! The orcs! They're coming!"

"Bilbo, slow down!"

"Bard's relay from Dale- they told him they could see from the tower-"

"Are they certain it wasn't King Dain?" Kili asked, head throbbing from the speed of his heartbeat.

"He said the orcs are close enough to see- they definitely weren't dwarves." Bilbo shook his head.

Alert and scrambling to his feet, Kili peered through the masses of men in the hall. "Where is my uncle?"

"I think he's still on the overlook," Bilbo said nervously, head turning from side to side, looking for something.

Kili knew the look on Bilbo's face—not knowing what to do, but trying to find something to do all the same—and he groaned inwardly a little. If the orcs were already on their doorstep then he had to act fast and he wasn't sure if he had time to give the hobbit directions.

"Master Baggins, you will accompany me to find King Bard." Tauriel said sternly, pressing a strong hand to the hobbit's back to usher him forward.

_Thank you_, Kili thought, wondering if his face betrayed his thoughts.

"Tauriel!" He called out to her after a few steps. He realized that things had flown into motion and everything would be falling into chaos—he might not see her during the battle, or even after…

Hand still on Bilbo's shoulder, Tauriel turned her head, eyes meeting Kili's.

"Be safe." He said, and he hoped it didn't sound as pleading as he felt inwardly.

She nodded and gifted him with a half-smile. "And you." Then she turned and pulled Bilbo along with her.

Climbing up the stairs as fast as he could manage, Kili was bent on finding his uncle and figuring out their stratagem. The orcs had come earlier than expected, but that did not mean the dwarves—and their new allies, the elves and the men—were unprepared.

The battle, it seemed, would be beginning soon…

* * *

**Dun-Dun-DUUUUUUUN! Tune in this Friday for The Battle of Five Armies (unless I finish it by Thursday)**


	18. Ch 18 -- The Battle of Five Armies

**Gold and Fire – Chapter 18 – The Battle of Five Armies**

_Under the Mountain dark and tall  
The King has come unto his hall!  
His foe is dead,  
the Worm of Dread,  
And ever so his foes shall fall._

_The sword is sharp, the spear is long,_  
_The arrow swift, the Gate is strong;_  
_The heart is bold that looks on gold;_  
_The dwarves no more shall suffer wrong_

_JRR Tolkien_

* * *

_Author's note: when you see the prompt, please please please listen to "A Song for Zula" by Phosphorescent, if you listen to none of the other songs... I never put an author's note in the beginning, but that's how important the song is..._

* * *

**watch?v=k9xn0JSGq4U "Tinfoil/Powerless (instrumental)" Linkin Park**

Kili climbed the steps quickly to reach his uncle on the overlook. Thorin and Fili had already been informed by a swifter messenger and were peering over the balcony's edge at the land before them.

"King Thranduil's scouts say they can see wargs already." Thorin mused, gripping the stone railing and glowering at the view.

"Do not turn a blind eye to the west of the mountain," said a deep voice from behind them.

"Gandalf," Fili breathed.

"This army from the east is a distraction," Gandalf said as he stepped forward, leaning heavily on his staff. "Another force lurks in the darkness, meaning to strangle us from behind."

"A force of what?" Thorin said, unmoving.

"Goblins."

Kili heard the squeak of leather as Thorin clenched his fists together. "This changes little. The orcs alone will overpower us before long, so we stick to the plan and lure them into the valley, into the arms of the mountain. We won't be able to escape them, but they cannot escape us either. We must press on and hope that Dain comes to us soon."

Thorin turned to face Fili. "You'll be stationed among the guard directly in front of the gate as a last resort for the protection of the wounded inside."

Although Fili looked displeased with his assignment, he said nothing and nodded his head. Kili, on the other hand, knew what was coming and was already considering his protests carefully.

Turning to Kili, Thorin placed a hand on his shoulder. "You'll be with the elf archers on the wall, also part of the last resort and part of the cover fire, should the orcs get too close to the gate."

"Where will _you_ be?" Kili asked. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Fili shake his head at him, but he ignored his brother's silent scolding. He knew he shouldn't question Thorin the way he did—since they retook the mountain, Thorin was King—but he could not do away with the sentiment that this dwarf was also his uncle.

Thorin seemed to let it pass, though, and answered, "I will be with Bard in Dale, bringing the orcs to the valley."

"So you mean to separate us?" Kili grumbled.

"You and your brother will be close enough to each other that—"

"No," Kili stepped forward, "I mean separated from _you_. There are archers enough to guard the wall, as well as swordsman," he nodded his head at his brother, "We swore to protect _you_, not the wounded."

"And _I_ swore to your mother that _I_ would protect the both of _you_." Thorin said sternly. "I love my sister dearly and I can't stand the thought of her mourning more than she already has. Dis has already lost her husband and her brother—do you really want to risk robbing her of more just to satisfy _your_ wishes?"

At first, he ground his teeth together, but Kili slowly began to accept these words. His mother had already suffered enough; keeping him and Fili away from the heart of the battle was his uncle's only way of fulfilling his promises to Dis and giving her a chance to see her sons again.

"I left you behind in Laketown for the same reason," Thorin said, bringing his forehead to touch Kili's, his hands on the younger dwarf's shoulders. "Because I love you and I need to know you're safe."

"I know," Kili said with closed eyes, brushing away at the bangs that fell in his face when Thorin stepped back.

"We don't have much time," Gandalf said apologetically, making for the stairs. Thorin followed after and disappeared with the wizard, leaving Kili and Fili standing before each other.

Kili could see that his brother was worried, but there was something else playing at the blonde dwarf's face. "What is it?" He asked.

"I just don't like being on the ground while you're on the overhang."

"Well, we could switch, if you like," Kili snickered, "I'll fight on the ground and you can shoot from up on the wall."

"I think the odds are already against us without my poorly-aimed arrows hitting as many allies as enemies." Fili snorted.

Despite the humor Kili lent, he knew that once Fili had decided to worry on something, there was no persuading him otherwise.

As many light-hearted things as Kili could think of, though, he knew nothing would help as much as what he did next. Stepping forward with arms outstretched, Kili wrapped Fili in a strong embrace, waiting for the concerned dwarf to thaw a little.

"You're thinking again," Kili said, still holding onto his brother, whose hands had slowly come around Kili's shoulders, "I can tell."

Stepping back, Kili saw a small smile tugging at the corner of Fili's lip. "Wistful, just thinking… wishing that Nur were coming with her father, as impractical as that sounds."

"Impractical? She'd be a bloody nuisance!" Kili laughed. "That's just what we need, eh? Orcs from the East, goblins from the West, and Nur in the middle of it all, waving a sword around like a novice."

* * *

** watch?v=7C_8rLQMVE "I'll Be Gone (instrumental)" Linkin Park**

The darkness of night felt heavier than normal to the people who stood in the ruins of Dale—elves, men, and a handful of dwarves—they could see the glowing eyes and the snarling teeth even at the distance.

And then, all at once, the movement of battle began.

Archers and swordsman alike put up a brave fight for the first hour, but the retreat which they planned to feign was now real.

"Fall back!" A loud voice called to the warriors surrounding him. "Fall back to the valley!"

It was Thorin Oakenshield who led the remaining fighters for a distance—and the same dwarf held his ground to protect the last man running to join the withdrawing troops.

Elsewhere on the wall, high above the gates, stood elven archers. Among those archers stood Bofur, Kili, Gandalf, Bombur, and Bilbo, all watching and saying aloud what each saw in the valley below.

Suddenly an elf gave a shout that the goblins had begun crawl from a high point of the mountain above the archers, climbing and sliding down in waves.

The battle waged into the night: The elves and men in the valley below against the orcs on their wargs and other terrifying beings; and the archers on the wall against the goblin hoard.

But with the morning came a small victory—the goblins could not stand even the meager light of morning and crept back along the side of the mountain at a speed which the elves could not match. Fili, suspecting that the retreat of the goblins was a ploy to cause the elves to pursue and leave the wall unguarded, called to his brother on the wall, using Kili as a relay to tell the elves to stay where they were.

And when the goblins left the fight, another presence joined it—

—down in the valley where King Thranduil, King Bard, and King Thorin fought side by side, a call went up that the armies of Dain had finally come. "They come from the east!"

And it was this momentary lapse in which Thorin turned his head in distraction, taking a spearhead to his left shoulder. Crying out in alarm, but fighting off the offender, Thorin ripped the spear from his shoulder and grappled at his foe until the orc was brought down. Before another orc was able to deal Thorin another blow, King Thranduil seemingly came out of nowhere and defended the dwarf king's blind spot.

The forces of King Dain trickled into the fight on the valley, their ram steeds plowing across the field and trampling all foes in their wake! The wargs looked to lose their courage when the Iron Hill mounts dove into them without fear. It was powerful ramming horns against sharp teeth.

Dain's forces pushed back against the orc hoard, killing all in their path—but a remnant had somehow made it closer to the gate and the elves on the wall seemed to hesitate as a wide circle was made just before the doors.

Clutching his arm to his chest, Thorin peered at the circle and realized it was a duel.

"Fili," Thorin breathed with wide eyes. He turned and shouted, "To me! To me! Elves and Men!" and he rushed in the direction of the gate, praying that his feet and the feet of those who followed him might be granted some unnatural speed.

* * *

** watch?v=I9iQclakwKw "Lost in the Echo (instrumental)" Linkin Park**

Kili saw as Bilbo's eyes rounded and his mouth dropped open. "Kili, is that—?"

Leaning over the edge of the wall, Kili searched and finally saw what the hobbit had spotted. The dwarf's lip curled back into a growl. "The pale orc."

"Azog…" Bilbo breathed.

Though the orcs fought with the warriors on the ground, they parted when Azog rode by. Occasionally, the massive orc struck out at whoever was brave enough to cross his path, making his way to the main gate and stopping in front of a lone warrior before dismounting.

"Fili," Bilbo cried in panic.

Kili's boots squeaked as he scurried to the rope he knew was still there and swung a leg over the ledge, pushing back the hands he knew belonged to the hobbit. Kili heard Bilbo thump backwards when he shoved at the hobbit, but he didn't see it—he held the rope between gloved hands and let go with his feet, sliding fast down the rope and crying out when he took the impact of the ground on his injured leg.

He knew he'd just made his leg injury worse, but his body was powered by pure adrenaline—his only thought being that he needed to get to Fili.

Jumping up and parrying the downward stroke of a cleaver aimed for his head, Kili deflected any blows that came at him and ran swiftly through the crowd.

By the time he reached the outer ridge of the orcs gathered around their leader and Fili, he understood that the orcs were enjoying the show between his brother and the pale orc.

Kili only had moments to process the sight of Azog's claw stretching out and swiping at Fili's head while the blonde dwarf pushed back against the other arm carrying pale orc's mace. The blood that began to spurt from Fili's forehead covered his cheek and jawline, dying his sunlit hair an orange color. It might have terrified Kili before, causing him to question the severity of the wound, but still fresh in his mind were the words of Tauriel: _"Head wounds, no matter how substantial, have the habit of bleeding strongly."_

Kili leapt into the air toward Azog, swinging his sword in a circular motion behind his back and using the momentum of the jump to add power to the blade he purposed to sink into the pale orc's back.

But somehow Azog was ready for this and turned at just the right moment, letting Kili fall to the ground at his side. It was all Kili could do to shift his weapon sideways in the hopes that he wouldn't fall on his own blade! The impact against his shoulder jarred him and he rolled onto his back to look up at the orc.

"The heir," Azog chuckled with a mouthful of blood, "and its littermate."

Kili wondered if Azog's mouth was full of his own blood or the blood of some poor victim, but he entertained himself with the idea that Fili might have scored a hit to the fowl creature's face.

Springing back to his feet, Kili rushed the orc again, but was stopped when a hand from behind caught his hair and tugged him painfully backward.

"No!" Azog bellowed at the dark orc who drew his sharp blade around Kili's neck. "It will be _Azog_ who kills all Durin-son's!"

The dark orc let go quickly and kicked Kili in the back, pushing him forward toward Fili. The twinge in his leg didn't appreciate the kick to his back and something in his knee kept snapping, but Kili willed himself to stand straight beside his brother.

"I would like to see the Oakenshield's grief before I kill him." Azog grinned wickedly with a step toward Kili and Fili. "I will even permit him to hold your dead bodies so I can savor the depth of that grief."

Now would have been the perfect time for a comeback, but Kili's mind was blank, staring at the pale orc towering before him.

"Gedat Be'el, vel lieb Behl," Fili whispered, and Kili instantly recalled the attack instruction. _Mine above and you below…_

If Azog purposed to strike out with his mace, he did it too late—Fili jumped into the air, two swords coming together in a chopping motion aimed at the brute's head, while Kili hurled himself at Azog's legs, slicing at the orc's knees.

But Azog sidestepped Kili again and raised his clawed arm in front of his face as Fili's swords came together, taking the full force of the blades. Kili grimaced at the shriek of metal scraping on metal. The claw fell to the ground, severed by the swords while Kili slid across dirt and grunted. Fili's body rolled over Kili's head as the blonde dwarf struggled to stop his momentum. Azog bellowed with laughter.

Kili felt himself being pulled back again, but this time recognized his brother's hands around his shoulders, scooting the dwarf away from Azog as the orc brought down his mace.

The whizzing sound of arrow shafts and the sickening squish and thud of arrowheads penetrating flesh met Kili's ears and he turned his head to see his uncle and a number of elves closing in on the circle, which was no longer round as the edges became chaotic with fighting. Azog shook with the impact of five arrows, all sinking into his chest.

"Azog!" Thorin rumbled in a shout that must have deafened any standing near him. He took a menacing step forward. "You," he pointed at the wounded orc with a bloodied hand, "_will not_ touch them."

Falling to his knees, Azog panted as he leaned forward. Thorin stepped closer, bringing his sword out in a swift and graceful motion and preparing to behead the orc—

—but Azog reached out instead, wicked smile proving he had feigned weakness, and stabbed Thorin in the gut with the remaining jagged metal which had once been his claw. He twisted to raise the impaled Thorin with a muscled arm.

"No!" Kili shouted with trembling arms, but Fili was already moving toward their enemy.

Lashing out with his blades, Fili struck the orc's arm from Azog's body, freeing his uncle from the hold as Thorin fell to the ground. The pale orc screamed frantically, pulling an arrow from his chest and trying to swipe at Fili, but the dwarf was too fast and ducked under each blow.

Kili knelt beside Thorin, pulling the orc's crooked, severed arm from his uncle's body and wincing when Thorin hollered at the elves to take out Azog.

Fili threw himself in front his uncle, far enough away from the orc that the archers on the wall regained their confidence and let fly a volley of arrows at Thorin's bitter enemy. Azog howled in laughter, each thud of an arrow interrupting the gurgling sound, and proceeded to pull arrow after arrow from his body to throw like darts at Thorin and his nephews.

Fili stood protectively before Thorin and Kili, deflecting Azog's darts with his swords—and Kili began to feel acutely the damage that had been inflicted on his leg. Dropping to the ground to lie beside the wounded Thorin, he mumbled something to his uncle, but was stopped short when one of the darts came close to his head, scratching him just above the eye.

Azog fell lifeless to the ground, causing an inadvertent whooping cheer to escape Kili's throat.

The pale orc was finally vanquished.

"Get them inside," he heard Fili say as he beckoned at Kili and Thorin.

"I'm staying," Kili protested, but he was already being lifted by the strong arms of a man. When his right leg collapsed underneath him, the sickening click of his knee prompted a childish whine from Kili's lips that must have been loud because Fili fixed his brother with a pleading eye, begging the younger dwarf to get himself to safety and a healer.

And for once, Kili felt he should give in.

* * *

** watch?v=J-9IK02qkZc "All the Wild Horses" Ray Lamontagne **

Bofur stood beside Gandalf as they peered over the edge at the valley below, bodies strewn and banners waving.

"It's so quiet now," Bofur whispered.

"A stark difference from what it was before," Gandalf nodded.

Bofur turned to face the wizard. "Nothin's movin'… is it done?"

Gandalf pressed his lips together. "For now," he nodded, "the battle is over."

"Then we've won." The miner clapped. "What do ya' mean, 'for now'?"

"The goblins will return, come nightfall." Gandalf said, wearily. "And until then, we must tend to those who have bought this respite with their blood."

"You mean Thorin and Kili." Bofur nodded, pulling his helmet from his head and wiping at the sweat on his brow. He was quiet a moment, squinting his eyes and focusing on someone below. His eyes went wide when he realized who it was.

"Well, I'll be…" Bofur breathed with a wide smile, hands on his hips.

* * *

** watch?v=FcdOLKx2XG8 "Song for Zula" Phosphorescent **

Fili kicked aside the helmet of a fallen orc, peering over the battlefield with a prayer of thanks that he had a moment to catch his breath. There was barely any movement, the orcs had been subdued and the goblins were still hiding from daylight, but Fili stood ready to raise his sword again if it was needed.

And that's when he saw it. The flash of blonde hair not fifty steps from him. It was an officer of the Iron Hills, removing a helmet and shaking hair free of the head covering. At first, he thought his eyes were playing tricks on him, but then he noted the height and build of this person and realized it was a lass… and a familiar lass, at that.

"No," he said, shaking his head, as if he could banish the thought. He was exhausted, he wasn't thinking right…

"Fili?" He heard his name. The lass took a step in his direction.

"It can't be you," Fili said, but the tears were already stinging his eyes and he knew he couldn't deny the sight of the lass standing before him. "Nur?"

"Fili." She smiled in relief, eyes watering.

He couldn't remember the first steps he took, but he knew he was running because he felt the air passing harshly against his face and hair, feet bringing him closer to the image he'd been holding onto for a long, long year. "Nur!"

Fili's heart swelled to an impossible size in his chest when he saw her make speed toward him, the tears flowing freely now as his open-mouthed smile widened across his face. His steps seemed to take an eternity; he couldn't get to her fast enough!

He cried out when their bodies collided, the force toppling them to the side as their arms enclosed around each other. He began to laugh uncontrollably as he felt the wave of joy sweep through him, drowning his senses in her hair, her arms, her strong hold as they fell clumsily to the ground.

Nur! She was here! She was in his arms! Fili couldn't believe it. It had to be a dream. But the clank of their armor brought him back to reality and the warmth she filled him with lent his limbs a power that did not dim.

"I found you," Nur wept, sniffling as she burrowed her face into the crook of his neck. "I prayed so hard to find you!"

"I don't know how you're here," He laughed, pulling her toward him, "but Mahal be praised!"

Fili pulled her head down and pressed his lips against hers, sighing a happy moan into her soft mouth and forgetting all else but her skin and taste. "I love you," he murmured between kisses. He repeated himself over and over until she answered with her own words.

How long they lay like that, savoring the embrace of one another, he did not know, but Fili groaned when at last Nur tried to pull away. Tried. As if Fili would let her.

"Don't." He pleaded. "Just stay here. Let the world carry on, I have my Nur." He beamed, lips against the hair above her ear. She giggled into his throat, her nose rubbing against the scruff on his neck and then pushed against him with a strength he didn't know she had. Nur rose and offered him a hand up.

"Later," she promised. "An army of orcs couldn't keep me away from you."

"Later," He agreed with a grunt, rising to his feet and looking out over the battlefield while grinning—partly because of the lingering effect of their reunion, partly because victory felt that much closer. "The light of day is dimming and the goblins will be back with a fury."

Nur nodded, turning her head to the valley. "We have to regroup, form lines again—"

Looking her up and down, Fili's face fell. "Nur, why are you—? How—?" He shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut and trying to sort through the swirl of confused thoughts and questions. "Lieutenant? When did you—?"

"Later," Nur said again with guarded eyes. "If goblins are coming, we don't have time right now."

* * *

**Reunion! Finally! :D **

**The art prompt that served as a muse for the battle between Fili and Azog can be seen here (this is NOT my artwork, and the artist did not draw it for me, either): ****post/53214663336/decidedlyartsy-asked-can-you-draw-for-me-a**

**Pabu is amazing and can be found on tumblr as hvit-ravn or PabutteGo on Deviant art.**

**And the prompt for Fili and Nur reuniting is a picture of Lagertha from Vikings on Pinterest: pinterest pin/377106168771958464/**

**Next chapter will be anywhere between tomorrow and Monday :)**

**Big, big thanks to BlueRiverSteel and SummerAlden for their edits!**


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